When is a scheme more
than a scheme, what gives it value, what makes you dream, if a dream
isn't broken why should we fix it and what kind of cream would go
with this biscuit? It may seem like
aeons ago, three princes met, all in the know, a plan was formed,
written in snow, melting away in the light of the day, evidence gone,
done nothing wrong. Who planted the scheme into a dream? Who left
that dream under a house? Was it the mouse? Dirty louse. Now that
dream was ready to fly, scheme taking hold of mind's eye, that's
where we started, before we departed, all's left to say is bye...
bye...
