“Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
-Ozymandias, by Percy Bysshe Shelley
It's a ragged little kingdom
'Neath a jagged little spire
And I've a ragged little resting place
To sleep on when I tire.
It's a vagabonded life
Wrapped in vagabonded clothes.
Most of which will keep me warm
(Excepting for my nose.)
All the tenements and towers,
And the signs along the way,
Scream "Ozymandias was here!"
- Before he went away.
There are canyons made by castles,
Where the narrow sky is thin.
So I prefer the open park,
Though it lets the winter in.
A nd I gather up the cast-offs
While the subject go a-toiling.
At least the falling temperature
Keeps my milk from spoiling.
There's a Sister and a Father
As a family, quite odd
And they'll preach a soup each evening
For those who still believe in God.
And the soup is served with sermons,
Because soup ain't had for free,
And I still believe in God;
Not sure if he believes in me.
Oh, it's the land of milk and honey,
Even for the self-anointed.
And long as you don't ask for much,
You won't be disappointed.
There's a Beauty on a balcony
That overlooks my park,
And a Beast upon the battlements,
Prowling after dark.
There's a winter in the offing,
And an empty jug of wine.
I scorn to change my state with kings,
'Cause Brother, it's all MINE.