He was sitting beneath the shade of sleeves
And he watches the hollow firm looks behind their eyes
And the tears of blackness
In which they were nurching

These things do not live, they only appear to be endangering
They exist [?]
Probably nothin'!

He began to lose slowly two hundred thousand wars
[?] is nauseous
The [?] re-silenced by the [?] that he embraced
That when I was little [?]

Markin' (parkin')
Toon (toon)