to think that I would fear the hand of fate!-
and I, instead of faithfully awaiting
death, who then in turn replaces life;
still seek escape from prisons of the soul!-
but as they say, just is the fate of fools; and
death, who then in turn replaces life,
will see to it that I shall meet my end!-
in time; but no-one can withstand sweet
death, who then in turn replaces life.
so am i but another hypocrite!-
but these deceiving eyes of mine will cheat not
death, who then in turn replaces life!
In the room, the women come and go,
But no more is Michelangelo.
2 comments:
You know somehow the slick nihilism and jovial self-pity somehow adds a very jazzy feel to it, despite the serious subject matter. Something like what one would hear if the blues existed during Faust's time. Love the smooth, stylish ending! ^^;;
i caught that. the last line is a reference to eliot's poem the love song of j.alfred prufrock. yo
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