There's nothing like this
It was born in the past
And suffers its way into the future
Its hard head supported
By the weakest spine
Ever known to man
It watches as others
Strive to exist
In a state that is its nature
They think it's the end
But it knows that it is
The process itself - retreat
It has no manners
To remember
So it falls hard into its food
And it slides down from table
Into retreat
Retreat, retreat, retreat