Is a curse –
The course of pathos –
To unsense the nonsense,
At first, your heart must be locked.
Call a locksmith, or become yourself,
Tho’ one lock won’t fix the life –
The ever strife of study –
To escape the legging,
You can never hide,
Your pocket cries out –
Not the tailor is the traitor –
To silence your empty stomach,
Again, your heart ought to lock up.
The ever hardship being a human,
Defenselessly desires the love –
The ever blazing consuming –
To unblind the avid eyes,
The fourth lock hies.
The locks sacrifice,
For the sacred conscience –
The ironed et rusting heart –
To fend the sober brain’s cogs,
Lock the heart and even the locks.