Written by: Leonard Taormina

Living in the shire;
Searching for that ring;
You may have found a lot of things;
But you never kept a thing.
     You hid behind a bush;
     While purpose you compiled;
     Disguised yourself as innocent;
     But the dung you left was vile.
And in the fires of your yesterdays;
In the crackles you may hear;
You may live defensively;
But you’ll never beat the fear.