See how they grow daffodils, marigolds Then consumed by the cold by the north gusts of Aquilo And you can lay claim on the backs of your slaves Build a bust in your name, just an proud man eroding Lust at a cost Shed the dead weight for no one will wait for you Now grieve what you've lost Then bury it quick, pick a new end and march on And what of the man With no busts and no land? Just a glass full of sand Flesh and bone just a man, just a man