What's the Muse
Music’s obviously derived
From the muse, but some of most
My beloved music’s tied
With the specialties I toast
Tasting the spiritual food
Feeding my well spoiled aesthetics
But it doesn’t seem too good
If some scantily clad fatty
Would've bug her whims at me
Prompting where to laugh or cry
If she spies me just to see
To what extent do I comply
To her wishes, if I’m tame
Or perhaps I’m secretly
Plotting an escape, to gain
Freedom from her tyranny
But no ancient skies I own
No clay soil I cultivate
And the only muse I know
Never was an overweight
She had gone when I was sleeping
Now she comes at nights to see
If I sleep, or if I’m sitting
Looking at her silently.
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