Marching brass melodies echo, wailing from the tile wall
I turn my head intrinsically, to intercept it's call
Like a dog's fixed stare, courting his beloved ball

A singular point comes the metallic tune
Just smash every tile, I'll surly find it soon
Hammering away till mid-summer, past June

The symphony stops, ear drums out of line
Just keep the tempo, I'm sure you'll be fine
The spot from where it plays, a cell all mine

I stopped the mania induced search
Slumped in defeat; not the sturdy birch
Bells ring hymes of late St. George's church

Pouring river flows, source internally
Souring figure shows, source maternally

Conscious now just like a faulty switch
Go ahead, just dig my cozy ditch

I'm off to that world, so loud and distorted
I'd never do that, you couldn't afford it