• How many songs in my pantry?
    My pantry, my pantry full of rot and scribble...
    Choosing a song for my ears is not constant, once every while.
    A fleeting memory brings back the lion.

    What is it that runs forward often?
    For I not know, and neither could you.
    A thing of the past or future, who can decide?
    It is not for us of limited value to choose.

    My eyes are fixed upon the mantle.
    A mantle worth so little, yet so much more.
    Fortune in its design yet little faith in its people.
    I have been fooled by this elaborate plan.

    Which stain on the dresser was mine?
    I cannot concede to your questions, in time.
    For I am the only, the single one in this prison,
    A pawn in this artwork most divine.