Here in the hustle and bustle of the world
I cannot locate my poetic muse
He has run off elsewhere like the child I am, too
But I MUST find him, now!

Quickly, he couldn't have gone far
In his paranoia and anger
Mister, have you seen him? Ma'am, have you?
Surely you could give me just a little clue?

And the orchestra of my mind roars so loud
And the music covers my brain like a cloud
So many nooks and crannies to crawl in
But this searching battle is something I MUST win!
Cause if I lose my muse
Who am I?
Who is Ellison, then?
If his mental bells ring so loud like Big Ben!

I'm blinded, deafened
By the hustle and bustle of the world
And you, the reader, will be the first to know
If I found my muse stranded in blackened snow.