All I am is a piece of wood

Cut from something living

Touch me I don't feel to good

I'm cold but I'm not shivering


You say I do not know, to say


All I am is the tail of a worm

Cut from something Squirming

Pinned to the earth I twist and turn

For soil and roots I'm yearning


All I am is a fingertip

Some angel's placed in cotton

And the syphalactic doctor says he'll make it fit

But all his learning he's forgotten