Through the wind and wicked dreary
of the morrow hills delight
walking on a path unclearly
pushing on with all my might
Whipped by the thrashing of the willow
and walking on, and pulling on
how desperately i long for my pillow
stumbling on, trekking on
Like a fish in the pond enjoying the rapture
finding the destination
destitute, drunk,happily ever after
clearly against his majestration.