Left to my own devices,
I go to places that aren't very nices.
But you believe in a spectrum of sorts.
One I used to live on before I blew it all to bits.
Sometimes I wonder what the incentive is;
The reason why I keep you arounded.
Times like these, I see what it means.
You're my canary.
You keep me grounded.
See, miners used to keep canaries in cages with them while they tunneled, so that if they went too deep . . . Ah ****, it loses all merit if I have to explain it.
