He was sitting beneath the shade of sleeves

And he watches the hollow firm looks behind their eyes

And the tears of blackness

In which they were nurturing

These things do not live, they only appear to be endangering

They exist [?]

Probably nothin'!

He began to lose slowly two hundred thousand wars

[?] is nauseous

The [?] re-silenced by the [?] that he embraced

That when I was little [?]

Markin' (parkin')

Toon (toon)