Tink the Tankering time does plea
a milisec- to my strenuous creed
Huff the hoping breath does sigh
an eternity to my endless life
Striking does the feather-pen plink
of oil casings drowned in Ink
If one could strike their sins to peace
A hundred lines my pen dost sink
Weary old this man does made
Late of night till Early days
Roar! with godforsaken vain
"I've Lived my last,and my Last is Day!"
Tink the Tankering Clocks do Yell
Seconds before 9 gates of Hell
Huff the dying breath does sigh
An ended life now taken by I.