flowers have been cut

 what choices for the poor or for the dead

in myth or legend amount to the same

decline of knowledge ending of the game

feasting on shadows and the ghost of bread

stale waters and the odours of the head

nought to the matter there is no more shame

where we have gone only the dirty flame

of penny passions when the nights are red

now dreadful options face us on each side

when we must turn toward the fallen night

with little hope that anything we say

could make a difference it's a thorny ride

where we'll be going and the sort of plight

we find ourselves in is not healed by day