I’m a stupid little thing

The kind you wouldn’t even think

To try to recall anything

About that

I would put me on a shelf

So you could knock me back to hell

Coz I can’t do any else

Except that

I’m so useless and deprived

Hate me now don’t ask me why

There’s still a reason when there isn’t but

For that

Now I’m going back to sleep

To remain the great nothing

Seeping from a leather-bag about

To splat