Babies cry when drunkards die
Their souls become the saddest of ghosts
They lie beneath the bed and shout: 'It's us!'
But nobody is searching, and nobody finds them.
Garden sparrows play among trees of mountain ash
A street sweeper dances amidst a stench of foul trash
Clocks strike the hour, they themselves are struck
Until time is up for me
For me, for me.