Festering rats fatten on the milk of my tongue,
Which turned sour long ago,
But feeds their flabby stomachs nonetheless.
Playing my pipe I crouch and snivel,
And worm through cracks and alleys dark,
And infect and poison,
Disease wet with saliva.
Thick black fur surrounds me,
My tongue swollen in my mouth,
Gorged on sweet honey,
Corrupted by the sun.
