Though many have withered

And none have become a winner

We must rest with our kindered

For what is success without becoming happier

It is this strife that fuels a person

That fuels a writer, and a poet

The promise of an excursion

But for to whom do we owe it

Our love ones give us strife so we must thank them at once

To do so we must lie with them for a while

At that time and only at that time will I pounce

Because of your rest I will take your spot and previal

For this is greed that fuels me like a monster

Since I am an artist that must get paid for it

So I must rise above you all in your slumber

This is my time to shine one I cannot sqaunder