When public beauties become private,
And soft music plays through the night,
Humidity demands an ocean,
And roaches claim the kitchen.
Blurry-eyed, draped in somnolent toga,
First child of magisterial morning,
The streets swell to day.
Up, a cup of instant coffee,
Two pieces of toast, a slice of tired cheese,
Some dull chest pain and two panadol.
Reach for the door, have forgotten keys.
Back again to the Magisterium.
Offer myself ten minutes more,
Only ten minutes more,
Must give Dali a realistic piece of my mind.