We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Close to the ones .who cry (try... ? to the grumbled mood moon coming home moaning home you can count to dry pet you can lick to a wet pant you can grade to the jet set (compare TS Eliot, The Wasteland, 1925...) We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry glass Or rats' feet over broken glass In our dry cellar ...