This is a rubbish of human rind, 
With a photograph clutched in the half 
Of a hand in the world love underlined. 
This is a girl who died in her mind, 
With a warm fix glue and a king called call 
All the gadgets burned and the gangsters died. 
This is a death in cage and blind 
With an if in its soul and a hole in its life, 
Where the young bell tolled and the old one died. 
This is a jog of young, young kind 
With one right hand and one black eye 
And the eyes of his eyes are as lost as you’ll find.