[Verse 1]
I prescribed myself a prone prolonged surrender
And proscribed my born role of friend and pretender
Abdicated agencys affirming splendor
And took to my bed a mind with which to render
A world in which I still felt tender
[Verse 2]
Confer upon this frail frame
A warrant for my given name
An agent I can justly blame
And a brain complacent and tame
[Verse 3]
And the prognosis is a slow descent
Of steadily increasing increments
Of liquor to the stomach of the sick