The carpet's lined and the handle's broke
The palm lays idle as the fingers bloat
Post the final haught and frenzied tope
Oh the rueful revelry is far too rote
The razor's rusted and the rope is frayed
The moths have chewed the silk away
All flesh and frailty on display
Oh don't stare at me with that spiteful gaze
The vinyl stained all bleach and hope
Trauma cleaners gonna have to cope
Oh it's a tired and all-too hackneyed trope
Down rock bottom of this ol' twisted slope