At the end of it all, you will ask yourself:
Why this particular beach?
Why this well-dressed man?
Why this scrap of paper,
with its distinctive font,
found months later in your
sewn-up fob pocket?
Evidence of itself, if of nothing else.

Has beauty fled this world?
Has beauty fled this world?
Shall you follow?
Shall you follow?

A sudden illness is slipped
into your food one night,
from which you will never recover.
A sudden sense of well-being
in this wan sunlight,
from which you will never recover.
At the end of it all:
a comb, some gum, a bus ticket.
Evidence of themselves, if even that.

Has beauty fled this world? Yes.
Has beauty fled this world? Yes.
Shall you follow? Yes.
Shall you follow? Yes.

Digitalis, digitalis, ouabain, ouabain.
Tamám shud, tamám shud, tamám shud.

At the end of it all, you will see yourself
carried to this beach
by a well-dressed man.
From a distance you'll watch
him lay you on your back.
From a distance you'll watch
you limply move your hand.
From a distance you'll watch
your pockets fill with sand.
From a distance you'll watch
your pockets fill with sand.

Has beauty fled this world? No.
Has beauty fled this world? No.
Shall you follow? No.
Shall you follow? No.

Has beauty fled this world? Yes|no.
Has beauty fled this world? Yes|no.
Shall you follow? Yes|no.
Shall you follow? Yes|no.