Destined to be a Felo-de-se, I set off on a long odyssey
All along I limp and crescendo pain is all I have to carry
I feel the creeping cold and an irascible aroma’s what I smell
Disheveled reflections of my life I see; Hell it appears like a spell

Shrieks and moans of my inner-self play a long restless Threnody
No wonder, all the cacophony I hear is played by the fucking Foley
I now feel feeble, I feel frail as I am Dilapidating; Hell, I am rotting
Disheveled and Damaged, as I feel, I see all my hopes Demolishing

Delusional would I love to be to hallucinate in world of no chicaneries
To hell with stigma and fame in a serene world of no pain and no worries
Defunctness, here, has entrapped me within the deepest quicksand of tragedy
Wouldn’t I be better dead rather than to limper along with exhausted energy?