You see me hang my spirits high
My dirty linen's out to dry
I've sought not freedom nor espy
Placating reason in the rhyme
A vindication of my crime
To ridicule the most sublime is an art I wish to kill
Now I'm crowning new dementia
With the thorns of yesterday
Liaising Pandora
Laureate of disarray
Each eye through blindness finds its sight
Each peak through valleys finds its height
Each wrong through nil can make a right
For nil will excavate that stain
Nor subjugate the caustic pain
The linen doused within the rain again
And again, and again
Now I'm crowning new dementia
With the thorns of yesterday
Liaising Pandora
Laureate of disarray
And I'm breathing in absentia
Through the thorns of everyday
Liaising Pandora
As I drink the guilt away

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