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