In the filthy basket were you born
To a soiled name you will live your life
In mud of rotten apples is your house 
God forbade you, but you became its worm!

Hold my gold, see in your hand it rusts
Drink my wine, and of rat blood it tastes
Kiss the breeze, hear the ambient goes silent
New is dawn, in rags but for you it wakes

Every book in a library does hate you
Read a page, and know what filth are you 
Don Juan or even the Satan is glorified still 
You dirty man, Clever and Different, rot you will

When I think you will ask?
“Which abhorrent crime made me dirt?”
So many, and so vile um for my tongue
They’ll be, I buried them shall my answer be!