The wretched dog, his eyes are turning gray.
The skin covered with sores will peel away.
Growing older, every passing day.
He's always there that's all I had to say

Oh how I loathe the wretched canine's soul.
A piece of meat that's rotting from the outside to the bone.
Though his putrid flesh reflects no light for eyes to see,
A mirror, nonetheless, that flesh could be.

The pain he feels returns to me tenfold.
Both him and I are kindred souls, we both are growing old.
And though each passing day that we endure appears the same,
We're slowly headed for the climax of this grueling game.

Am I happy now that I am all alone,
Left to bear the burden of the stone all on my own?
Inching closer to the summit, every passing day.
I'll see you at the bottom, friend, that's all I have to say.