As I have not trusted, I have not hoped In the bleak alleyways And the secondhand streets Where misery waits At the turn of your hand As I have not believed So I have not seen The uselessness, the pettiness And in by the clouds are the sun and the stars By the walls and the rain I shall not come to you for tea As you may come back home with me Not believing and not seeing the facts Yapping into our face Alternate fire, alternate smoke I shall not wake at seven or eight As all the hours are now too late With the lead weights motionless I spy with my little eye You and I, my love, you and I With our backs to each other Chewing on shadows, dissecting the lights That their brightness might be classified And then immasculated And finally killed