I'm glad I no longer own the sculpture: Granted will not be a statue. From the thirties to the seventies, Always stand in the light of a cone vertex, Singing, crying and laughing. Arrogance, arrogant, calendar for half a century To adolescents and youth and middle age years squandered away. And what it also intends to play today? To look in the mirror it! How old and ugly! But I do know is this: In addition to the body's cooling off in vain, Still in a childlike innocence. So I belong to the soul of the race; God's favorite. What, then, What, then, These attempts to lure you Yeah I'm the devil, Not away at once? Away at once!