I'm floating on the water of my imagination,
I let it sweep me up, I let it take me with it,
All the things I wish I could do,
I just shrivle up and write it down,
All you have to do is find your purpose,
And you'll shrink like a coward,
You'll find an excuse to prolong your life,
Just to get one more ounce of affection,
The dead sleep well,
And after I'm done I will too,
Eight epic stories at the tips of my fingers,
Will be my last note to the world,
My gluttonous heart wants more praise,
As every has-been does,
So after eight epics there will be nothing left to do,
So why fight the end?
Goodnight.
-Sir Jestro
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