| I belong to no one | ||||
| No one to | ||||
| Me | ||||
| A conglomeration | ||||
| Of | ||||
| One | ||||
| Alone | ||||
| Only my red shoes | ||||
| To look | ||||
| At | ||||
| Sit here with | ||||
| Thinking | ||||
| Drinking | ||||
| It seems | ||||
| I'm | ||||
| Destined | ||||
| To stand | ||||
| Out in the | ||||
| Cold | ||||
| My nose | ||||
| Pressed up | ||||
| Against the | ||||
| Glass | ||||
| I was born | ||||
| Outside of | ||||
| Life | ||||
| For the | ||||
| World | ||||
| Not to take | ||||
| Only | ||||
| Give | ||||
| And on it goes | ||||
| Helping when I can | ||||
| Then drawing | ||||
| Back into | ||||
| Myself | ||||
| Being alone | ||||
| Receiving a nice | ||||
| Epitaph | ||||
| Maybe it | ||||
| Will | ||||
| Change | ||||
| Maybe I'll have to | ||||
| Go to | ||||
| War | ||||
| Maybe never get an | ||||
| Epitaph | ||||
| Hand to | ||||
| Hold | ||||