Oh for the lengths I have had to go

And the further pains of my expression

I want you to a shout they play to you virtues

And that you hold over them a considerable advantage

But like the muck-peddler

Devised the ruin of your purity

And like the rough-shodder

I have trampled your good name

I am a perfect louse

I bleed the goodness from your body

To think I thought

I could change and oh to believe such piffle

I long never to rest in the tomb of my family

Or be hoist to the id may

I be scattered here with you

To think I thought

I could change and oh to believe such piffle

I long never to rest in the tomb of my family

Or be hoist to the id may

I be scattered here with you