The ancient threads which curl and weave From brain to restless heart Beware the flesh that's so naive Of fresh and painful start. This piece of flesh convulsing in A paroxysm of joy Forgot the Reason in its spin With nothing to destroy. In absurd dance of trembling nerves It blisses and transports. You know, for such obsessive verve There are no antidotes. I yearn, I pine, I crave, I burn, I ache, I starve, I lust. That keeps my soul made of fern In general disgust. The more you give, the more it wants, This beast of flesh and blood. It prays, it howls, it stalks, it haunts And beats with deafening thud. You tame the beast and feed it well So it's asleep for now, But once you try to say farewell It will explode somehow.