We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Close to the ones .who cry (try... ?
to the grumbled mood moon
coming home moaning home
you can count to dry pet
you can lick to a wet pant
you can grade to the jet set
(compare TS Eliot, The Wasteland, 1925...)
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry glass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
...
