[Verse 1]

I prescribed myself a prone prolonged surrender

And proscribed my born role of friend and pretender

Abdicated agency's affirming splendor

And took to my bed a mind with which to render

A world in which I still felt tender

[Verse 2]

Confer upon this frail frame

A warrant for my given name

An agent I can justly blame

And a brain complacent and tame

[Verse 3]

And the prognosis is a slow descent

Of steadily increasing increments

Of liquor to the stomach of the sick