Clarissa Harlowe

Your soul is good and true!
Everything you love is beautiful and right!
But somehow everything turns poisonous for you.

You put complete reliance on loveless people who
insist on being with you day and night—
your soul so good and true

that the winged worm can't spoil the rosebud you,
no matter how desperately you have to fight.
But it all turned poisonous for you,

and you’re in society’s dungeon too,
because, for once, you had to scratch and bite—
your soul so good and true

that God will justify you no matter what you do,
irreproachable, but dyed
in the bloody crimes of others, poisoning your life for you.

You’re always the one whom the black shoe
fits, love—the one whose name they wrote
under the photograph of so good and true
a soul as you are, baby, and poisoned your life for you!