Awake my Soul and see the pressing Lie,
In which we hold so deeply trenched inside,
The thoughtless drivel we use to get by;
Has left Forsaken everything we tried.
A wish to gather up this heartless dust
And watch it sail amidst the winding wind.
A fleeting heart in simple cedar trussed
To be dismissed along with all his kind.
O, lest you should so falsely keep intact
The truth to which this wanton willow waxed;
Depart good Sir and never turn your back
To catch a glimpse of all that which has lapsed.
For nothing of such worth within I hold
For any story of mine to be told.
– Sir Winston Lear