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
 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 strain
 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 every day
 Liaising pandora
 As I drink the guilt away