Letra de Short Story - Anne Clark

There is a little place
in a little room
Where a little chap
hides away amidst the gloom

Tucks his little legs
underneath a well-worn chair
Plucks a piece of paper
and attacks at his despair

A stubby lead pencil
scratches through the fears
Of every little cruelness
that reduces us to tears

Sharp is the lead
but will it penetrate
All the nooks and crannies
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that this world creates

There is so little time
for us to stop and look
As he places the cover
upon his little book

There will come a day
when this little man will die
And they'll put him in a tiny hole
underneath the sky

His little lead pencil,
book and chair
Will be placed inside a plastic bag
and taken who knows where ...