Will any of this be Remembered in The end,
Will Any of this be written down,
Is any of this Really necessary,
To Tear me apart, To Open My eyes?

Really, are you thinking Of the consequences?
Maybe it's your own Indulgence, Maybe It's one's own Pleasure,
I cannot Even Begin to Describe the situation,
Who Will end up looking like The Linner?
Maybe You were, You Were The one painting the Illusion.

So many possible Responses,
I think Maybe This was All a just a storybook,
There would be no One to Blame But you, For tearing out the Last page,
This would be quite a sempiternal Tale.

Your words are compulsive, You've been possesed by your ego,
Nothing matters to you, But your Own Portrait,
Everyone's waiting for your response, how long will we continue abiding your trammels?
Nothing's going to result, quit your lollygagging.

So, why must we allow you to take control?
You're nothing but a craven, a fool of your own deception,
Why must you haste to release us from your illness?
We never brought you any grief.