My morning is scarce of dews
My night abandoned by the moon
My sorrows multiply each noon
My life is far from pleasure or suit
My genes are allergic to miracles
I have cracked up my brains and knockles
I have consulted the gods and oracles
Yet no remedy, no miracle
I am left to cry to oblivion
Sick from pains of pains
My tears forming the smallest lake
Let me sleep, don't wake me up