Yes, he's talking to himself
Like some twisted cave elf
Forgotten from some by gotten year

Numbers never really quite random
But one the level given a handsome
Rambling about some long forgotten year

His days spent in silent concentration
Perhaps the state of a failing Nation
Or perhaps just the constant retro
thought

If he's caught in his own predicament
He'll charm you with heartwarming sentiment
Then look just at the nothingness you got

Ask me how I would know that this is so
With a truthfulness I should know
The stories, the secrets, the day being free

Magic imagined, fairytales reenacted
All my creativity highly interacted
How I know is,
it's me talking to me