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?

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?