OUR PALACE IN ERGOSPHERE

Drowned in some shoddy unconsistence,

We’ve got two rooms which we painted yellow and green.

And now they have run aground,

Please let me in; think now it’s time for reflection,

And then we’ll move.

We feel the crowds roaring

outside;

We lock the doors, keep drinking tea

And talking ‘bout Nietszche.

And then, someday, when we die,

all the world’s great men will join us at home,

upthere, in Ergosphere.

Though there’s no light in our tiny rooms

We don’t mind

We see everything clear, all around.