How can this body sing

that so recently cursed your name

this sordid web of nerves and skin

so closely tied to earth

can this thing praise you

as you desire

This frail heap of tangled mores

how can beauty live here

one perfect thought

or holy hope

this frame possessed

and swine could eat the rose

This morbid brother

clutches wildly at life

so freely given

yet ignored

Stupidity called intelligence

repugnance revealed as beauty

its greatest day is foreign to

one hour of holy bliss

How can praise from this

be music to your ear

How can you who gave your all

accept glory from these

self-serving, un-righteous

and craven lips?

A lost one found, pretty depressing, eh?