Of which
They shall
Forget

His mind
Empty
His mind
Gone

Of each man
Desire
But of which
I favor
Fire!

No more
Then an
Empty shell
Down below

Of which
You all
Shall
Forget!

But an
Ode to
This man!

Our fellow
Lost!

Of which
He shall not
Be forgotten
While he rots!

A silent man
Beyond help!

He is I!
He is he!
He is you!
The mute
He sits!

Nothing to do

Nothing to say

He has seen
The debts
Of Hell!
His prison

He has seen
The shining gates
Of Heaven
His Hell!

He sits
He rots
Not a drop

Of blood
For his
Soul

He is
Lost!

So an
Ode

For our
Lost one

Our mute