Lamaze

Those malaised and delicate
The very few
Where outside women call
To relish who's who
Convivial heart
There to not move
There to not pull through
There in Lamaze
Thirty-eight months
All of them undue

And though this day, this doom, this world will never end
One waits true on end
And what a horrible end, too
And all their striving did cut in
Is there any(one) worse off?
Is there any(one) more in love?

Thе dispassionate heart of them with no wound
Of thеm with no spare room
Where outside women call
To relish who's who
Is there any(one) worse off?
Is there any(one) more in love?