Oh vanity most fiendish
perched atop my shoulder
of grace and beauty praised
but blind was our beholder

A strumpet like blind fortune
Casts its shadow over art
And now art whores for money
And thus our dreams depart

The harlots ride on currents
Seas in horizons lost
And abandoned are the vain
In doubtful oceans tossed

Thus the tinted mirror shatters
And another soul is broken