"Poetry is fleeting"

[Harbinger of Badass]

My poetry has gone and fled me
From neither pen nor pencil does a wisp of thought flow
And not from paper do shouts bellow forth
Oh bastardizing God, what evil have I done?

For my poetry is fleeting, and my thoughts are in fair stock
What am I to do now?
Bastardizing God, what have I done?

The Baltic Queen, she loves me not!
But I care not of it!
For there is not an I without she

But oh God, there is no care to inspire anymore
Please God, I would sooner than ought
Send my soul to the very fire of Hell in which I fear
If only to convey to the World a penny-worth thought