Put me on the dusty shelf,
Months will pass and you'll recall me
You will get me out again
'Till new reason you could scroll me
You will pray an aid of deuce,
Sobing you were just a moron
I'll be happy I'm in use,
Tending you, when you're in sorrow
I will rise in all new hopes
And convince myself you've shifted,
But the sloe is not a rose,
And I've crashed as soon, as lifted
You forgot to fix me up,
Leaving me in here abandoned,
Gone for calling of your heart,
And I'm back to shelf I spend on...