Publisher's Synopsis
What is it we cherish?
What gives us delight?
What fills us with pride
As we blow out the light?
What fills us, indeed!
For is that not our aim?
To fill ourselves up;
Is that not our game?
For each of us here's like
An inn on the plains
And we stuff ourselves full
Until no room remains
'Tis the way of all flesh;
We will always make room
For the things we think treasures...
... We will ALWAYS make room.
