You laid me in a garden sweet;
To fields of fools did I retreat.
A song of sirens stoked my flame
And charred my soul! The hand of shame
Did wring the very life from me
And left me ragged; ne’er to be
The one to bring your stiff demise.
‘Twas vexed and vanquished by your lies.
But, o the joy! The flood it came
And washed the soot and doused the flame.
The field submerged and song now drowned
No grip to squeeze; just flood-soaked ground.
My garden gone, no land to till,
Yet oft it soaks my memories still.
And so I cast you back to hell
Remain inside your fiery cell.