Each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look, some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword
Some kill their love when they are young
Some when they are old
Some strangle with the hands of lust
Some with the hands of gold
The kindest use a knife because
The dead so soon grow cold
Some love too little, some too long
Some buy and other sell. some do the deed
With so many tears, and some without a sigh
For each man kills the thing he loves
Yet each man does not die