Was I born for your cruel amusement?
Is that really my sole function?
You make me feel I am a mutant,
To be displayed in a freak pavilion.
If I thought thou shalt treat me fair,
I'd throw myself, bare, upon thine altar,
While fervently whispering a prayer,
To stay your hand before my slaughter.
Enough Moshe, I say, you will no more be able,
To use me as a pitiful thing,
Upon you I shall turn my table,
And your downfall I will bring.
Now change your ways and show me affection,

Husband me before soon, lest you end your days in lonely reflection.