Muscle and blood, skin and bone,
This is the prison in which we call home.
We labor and fight, and spend all our life,
Rolling in shit and drowning in strife.
Death is a blessing, of that I've no doubt,
Life's cruel curse has left me without.
That single kiss has curdled my blood,
And turned food to ashes, tasting of mud.
What did I do to so offend?
To leave me so cursed with life without end?