Each day is a precious gift.
My life a torturous rift.
The sun rises and brings the hope.
Then it falls and I begin to grope.
A man stands courageously against the horizon.
He then goes mad as it fades into darkness.
What sustains him yet another day,
Is morning's dew, first sweet kiss.
If a man can find solace
in a sun that never shines on him.
Then is it any wonder
he gains comforts
from a Camel's sweet warm piss?