A life of washing dishes is not fair
For people who remain unloved still
And all the little presents show you care
But never fail to make me feel quite ill.

A love that aches a thousand times a day
Will burn and sting and make the acid curl.
The life I live is worth a lot to you
Who kills the very essence of my soul.

And still I wander in the promised land
That Jewish men have told of long before
The age of dying fell upon us all
And now I'll sing the dying song no more.

A cold and stale remembrance of this night
Will never be enough to quench my soul
And, killing every earthen ware delight,
The misery that forms will eat you whole.