Flee the icy Lucifer. Oh he's an awful fellow! What a mistake! I didn't take a feather from his pillow. Here's the everlasting rub: neither am I good nor bad. I'd give up my halo for a horn and the horn for the hat I once had. I'm only breathing. There's life on my ceiling. The flies there are sleeping quietly. Twist my right arm in the dark. I would give two or three for one of those days that never made impressions on the old score. I would gladly be a dog barking up the wrong tree. Everyone's saved; we're in the grave. See you there for afternoon tea. Time for awaking. The tea lady's making a brew-up and baking new bread. Pick me up at half past none, there's not a moment to lose. There is the train on which I came. On the platform are my old shoes. Station master rings his bell. Whistles blow and flags wave. A little of what you fancy does you good (Or so it should). I thank everybody for making me welcome. I'd stay but my wings have just dropped off.