There's little in taking or giving,
 There's little in water or wine;
This living, this living, this living
 Was never a project of mine.
Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is
 The gain of the one at the top,
For art is a form of catharsis,
 And love is a permanent flop,
And work is the province of cattle,
 And rest's for a clam in a shell,
So I'm thinking of throwing the battle-
 Would you kindly direct me to hell?