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Let them have it; it's theirs

 Beauty goes out of the world and it's only the beating of flesh that fills the air. It's only the moaning of some whore made good by the bank balance of a richer man. Let them bang on at it. Let the flesh smells rot the air. As for this withering part of the tree, As for me:  I will enjoy the last rays of the sun.  People are such a disappointment.
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In desperate need of exercise

 The body looks dead and the lymph has not been drained. There needs to be some exercise for the body to to rejuvenate and run blood through again. There is a simple logic that cannot be escaped which runs the universe round. I t   i s  c a l l e d   c o m m o n   s e n s e. 

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