• Life is but a twisted game
    In which we are the captive guests;
    A maze of fates that end the same
    Enclose the rat that never rests.

    Forever searching fruitlessly
    Within the circles of his mind
    For peace that's just a fallacy
    Inside the world he''ll never find.

    While high above his frantic quest
    The Puppet Master's shadows loom;
    This Riddler enjoys his jest:
    A frantic creature's hopeless doom.

    And just for sport, or rather spite,
    He tugs the strings of destiny,
    And op'ning floods of enless plight,
    He drowns his pet in trouble's sea.

    The current of this hopeless tide
    Draws out the fears he finds with shame-
    While Puppeteer looks on with pride
    And deems the weary creature tame...