Children of Darkness got no wings by Dylan Thomas

Children of Darkness got no wings,

This we know we got no wings,

Stay, dramatic figures, tethered down

By weight of cloth and fact,

Crystal or funeral, got no hope

For us that knows misventure

Only as wrong; but shan't the genius fail,

Gliding, rope-dancing, is his fancy,

Better nor us can't gainsay walking,

Who'll break our necks upon the pavement

Easier than he upon the ice.

For we are ordinary men,

Sleep, wake, and sleep, eat, love and laugh,

With wide, dry, mouths and eyes,

Poor, petty, vermin,

Stink of cigarettes and armpits,

Cut our figures, and retreat at night

Into a double or a single bed, 

The same thoughts race through our head.

We are ordinary men,

Bred in the dark behind the skirting-board,

Crying with hungry voices in our nest,

Children of darkness got no wings,

This we know, we got no wings,

Stay, in a circle chalked upon the floor,

Waiting all vainly this we know.