Fiendish felon fears the falling fickle sickle.

You can't hide boy, and why should you?

Future fertilizer,

future phosphate,

future fern food,

you're practically ash already

with your dull gray eyes

in that dull gray skull.

It was integral that you did what you did,

fate is funny that way,

but when you rot

no one will remember it, anyway,

or you.