The gulls above our heads are ill They've eaten much more than their fill Excreta plunges from the sky The leeches lunching on our legs Are leaving blood and sperm and eggs Before they gorge themselves and die But that's okay, who gives a damn That dead trapezoids look like ham When you can laugh and boast "I am!" The tongues within our mouths are cold The lead we've swallowed's turned to gold That curdles slowly in our veins Inside our lungs the air is oil And thoughts of death within us coil And eat the oatmeal of our brains But that's alright, what's done is done We have some failures and some fun With each new breath our life's begun