Climbing the hill of my will that can fail
With my tail caught by the ill
Dropping the pill at my heel that may kill
Against my bill ground by the nail
Checking the mail of my feel that does yell
Beyond the mill cursed by the hell
Telling the veil of my sale that smells of oil
Upon the dial spoiled by the deal
Stealing the bell of my seal that pulls chill
Over the shell covered by the refill
Keeping the bail of my girl that won’t heal
Through the aisle posed by the trial
Lifting the pearl of my gill that shall detail
Until the wheel cooked by the real