when ere sleep tries to soothe the sleepy eyes i get the mirror from off the shelf and start getting queerer, chasing myself drilling thy far-out mien that no more is my guise
Alas!,emits the odd reflection, A young woman with good intents but needed direction
pardon my manners dear me, i says, I've lost my taste for grace as you see I'm no longer virtue's servant and devotee
pardon my treacherous soul that trembles like autumn's leaf like a slice of iron between two lodestones of woe and grief
but, life waggles me up and down in ebb and flow and nothing but moans, perfidy and malice To bestow shall i settle for a crust of bread and a place to sleep in ? shall i hold my tongue in pain and take a corner to weep in ? I've been a gullible pawn in a staggering game of chess
pardon my weary soul dear me, i shall confess not pawns who gentle but pawns who bow nor who crown are kings but they who blow therein he who craves the crown full-blown, cleaving all paths, must wrestle the burden that dropped him down