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| Ahh, the sweet smell of the autumn sun |
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| And thus I find some silverish disaster |
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| Since I do desire to rest my bun |
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| I start to build with the new found cluster |
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| An ordinary stool, for my weight to bear |
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| But as there are so many more |
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| I put together to complete a chair |
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| And compile a backrest, for mine is so sore |
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| Whole my life I was searching my seat |
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| The final space, now quite a feast |
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| I create it myselfe, eventually I face |
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| My final place to rest in peace |
