All rags and patches, shards and splints,
who hobbles on as best he can
though you see where the sharp bone glin
Broken's where we all began:
Honor well the broken man.
There are other broken men
who try their best to pass as gents
and tear themselves anew, again,
and bundle rags to stop the rents.
They're rather brittle, now and then:
Watch you well these broken men.
We are all the broken men.
Deny it all you want, it's true:
and false sometimes, then true again;
so honor me, and honor you.