Long will be the passing day Strong will be the urge to stay Resigned to slump beneath the need Designed to incubate the seed Bend beneath The weight, the grief And so control Your goal See in objects' static lines The moving plan that they refine Read into a body's needs The intention to deceive The lid you lift Will set you adrift Because your skin Is thin The senses by themselves feel strange And through them you hope to arrange Actions into present facts Activities into real lacks Look: they show The empty flow That runs through The things you do You could be wrong and in which case You should resolve to now displace Effluvium, the rind of dreams To flush it out in uric streams Smell the waste Without distaste It will reveal What you really feel