Based on the poem 'A Shameful Pauper' by Xavier Forneret.


He pulled it out
Of his pocket worn,
Held it up,
And gazed forlorn,
Saying, "Poor thing!"

He blew on it
With moistened lips.
He shudders once
At the thought that grips
His heart.

He wet it
With a frozen tear
That chanced to melt;
His room is drear
As a junk shop.

He rubbed it,
Did not warm it,
Barely felt it;
For, pierced by chill,
It held back.

He weighed it
Like a bright idea,
Upon the air.
Then with some wire
He measured it.

He touched it
With his wrinkled pout.
In frantic terror
It cried out: Kiss me farewell!

He kissed it,
And then crossed it
O'er his body's clock:
Poorly wound, it gave off
A dull and heavy tock.

He felt it
With a hand resolved
To put the thing to death.
"Yes, it will make a hearty snack,"
He muttered 'neath his breath.

He folded it up,
He broke it off,
He set it down,
He cut it up,
He washed it off,
He carried it over,
He fried it up,
He swallowed it down.

When he was little, they told him:
If you're still hungry, you can eat your hand.


from SupercaliFUCKIT (2014 remaster), released August 10, 2003




Superhero's General Nicosia, Cyprus

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