In muck your sun, in muck your moon, in muck your history.
In trash, you born, in trash, you raised, in trash, you’ll buried be.
This filth be damned, this filth become, this filth your destiny.
A slave to waste, a slave to rot, a slave to poverty.
Whose child of God, whose child of love, whose child cast down below.
Where vile the sores, where vile the scabs, where vile the pus of woe.
In sickness dwell, in sickness toil, in sickness, foul and foe.
Know you the rats, know you the crows, know you what vultures know.
Too young for scars, too young for wounds, too young for bleeding veins.
To live deprived, to live defiled, to live in festered pains.
The devil’s dump, the devil’s curse, the devil’s rotten gains.
What faith possess, what faith confess, what faith in you remains?
Someday you’ll die, someday escape, someday you’ll steal away.
Till then the dearth, till then the dirt, till then in life’s decay.
The lowest cur, the lowest cast, the lowest form of stray.
So weeps the heart, so weeps the soul, so weeps the child of clay.