As I have not trusted
I have not hoped
In the bleak alleyways
And the secondhand streets
Where misery waits
At the turn of your hand

As I have not believed
So I have not seen
The uselessness
The pettiness
And in by the clouds are the sun and the stars
By the walls and the rain
I shall not come to you for tea
As you may come back home with me
Not believing and not seeing the facts
Yapping into our face
Alternate fire
Alternate smoke
I shall not wake
At seven or eight
As all the hours
Are now too late
With the lead weights motionless
I spy with my little eye
You and I, my love
You and I
With our backs to each other
Chewing on shadows
Dissecting the lights
That their brightness might be classified
And then emasculated
And finally killed