This pile of books, Is my only friend, We’ve been to worlds far away, But I know it’s just pretend.
This corner nook, By the window sill, Shows a world as clear as day, A destiny I can’t fulfil.
If I had a spell, That would work on you, It would likely make all my dreams come true, But, if I had a spell, That would work on you, I don’t think that I’d be able to follow through.
This pile of books, Has been my ball and chain, I’ve held by the weight of the words, But I won’t make that mistake again.
This heavy door, Under lock and key, Has never been held shut, By anyone other than me.