Look At Me! I'm A Puffy Pink

And Here I Am Using My Own Lungs Like A Sucker.

That Is The Gods' Work, Spinning Threads Of Death Through The Lives Of Mortal Men, An All To Make A Song For Those To Come.

Shame Is No Comrade For The Poor, I Weet.

Now From The Smooth Deep Ocean-stream The Sun Began To Climb The Heavens, And With New Rays Smote The Surrounding Fields.

Jove Lifts The Golden Balances That Show The Fates Of Mortal Men, And Things Below.