The art of clipping one's nails;
Is all the world entails,
Dream on my sweet eye,
do not be afraid, for together, we will die.
Gone forever, a gust of dust and the smell of musk;
Worry not, for what we give; is always given to us.
My sweet name; fear not your lack of favour or fame,
for in the eyes of the dreamer;
you are always the gleamer.
Behind the mask, who is there?
Who is it that's who?
Who is? A knock comes on the door; an old friend to tell you,
be silent my sweet eye; you're it.