You waxed poetic about Devonshire cream
And how you cheered for the Arsenal team
Your face was painted red, your dark eyes were agleam
As you took in the sights of that new scene
Now we sit in this frigid, dingy apartment
Spending the last of the funds you were lent
Lit only by a wizarding lamp ornament
Ignoring the doom of future payment
You attempt to color the walls with futile words
Telling me stories about wingless birds
As the lines between truth and reality blurred
Your feeble and vacant tales went unheard
What does it matter in this gray Midwestern town
On what bright sunny paths you once were bound
The words you speak will not your audience astound
You simply let your callousness abound
Read the room now, the cold unspeaking room
I will leave you to swim lone in the flume
There you’ll meet your inexorable doom
Goodbye dear one, enjoy your homespun tomb