I met a man, a man who talks and talks
He weaves fabrics and makes them into socks
Then sell the socks and buy some antique clocks
The clocks are then put into a precious box

This man I met, is man who talks and talks
Even he sits, or whenever he walks
He also writes stories 'bout the docks
Or clouds and trees, even worlds of faux

He is the man who loves talking to himself
In front of mirror kept so long from a shelf...