Yare yare, it seems I have to do it again,
I have to drag myself out of this pit,
It's such a pain, to repeat and maintain,
But this burning ache requires the first aid kit,
You would think I'd be tired of it by now,
I'd be worn out from these recurrent beatings,
You'd be shocked if you saw me howl,
And scream for life to end it's clippings,
Of my feathers, every time I tried to soar,
So I keep treating my torn hamstrings,
And stirring my watery broths,
Yet these tragic routines keep me...