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Description
I am sick
Said I to myself,
With the sickness called "Living"
the cure held in no shelf.

I lie here waiting
For the ill to be cured
But to you
It may be absurd.

I'd looked as if dead
Already, at last.
My fever, my "living"
Has yet to be past.

I feel it coming.
It is the cure!
I'll be rid of my fever,
Of that much I'm sure.

At long last
I'm cured of my "living" disease!
So if you would
Let me rest...please.

Description
I am sick
Said I to myself,
With the sickness called "Living"
the cure held in no shelf.

I lie here waiting
For the ill to be cured
But to you
It may be absurd.

I'd looked as if dead
Already, at last.
My fever, my "living"
Has yet to be past.

I feel it coming.
It is the cure!
I'll be rid of my fever,
Of that much I'm sure.

At long last
I'm cured of my "living" disease!
So if you would
Let me rest...please.