Look at us lying here,
Thousands of orange hues on the floor.
What more does nature want of us?
Does it somehow want some more?
I’m crippled and dry,
Nature wants so painful to be my die.
A hundred wrinkles in my veins.
And get still whipped by the reins.
I’m dead I really am.
I’m lying here without purpose.
Yet still you expect more of me?
I’m a clown in a circus.
I’m the one people are scared of,
The one they want to die.
I don’t contribute to the funness,
Let quickly be my die.