a kind of epitaph

we will not leave unchanged from this sad place
no terror's left to frighten those who dare
we're not the glory of the human race

each of us wishes we could leave some trace
of who we were hanging bright in the air
we will not leave unchanged from this sad place

we shed all satin and we shed all lace
still we will not be either cold or bare
we''re not the glory of the human race

when we are gone we'll leave behind no space
nor will the world be less stark or less fair
we will not leave unchanged from this sad place

our hands are suited not to gun or mace
nor to such weapons as the great may spare
we're not the glory of the human race

the plainest truth is seen in every face
lineaments of honesty and care
we will not leave unchanged from this sad place
we're not the glory of the human race