The bards desire, a whiter shade of muse,
requires that deep depression be attained.
A genuinely somber tone, the blues,
must permeate the soul and be retained.
You're better off, a human, being sad
as lack of hope intensifies the senses.
The muse will be obscure when one is glad.
Embrace your pain. Oh poet, build no fences!
A weary writer soon divines the well
and draws his muse from willful deprivation
of sleep that he may conjure bliss or Hell,
exhaustion is a path to inspiration.
Exhaustion's good, depression's better still...
if you can manage both you're almost Will.
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