There's an iron furnace burning bright
Down deep in the thinking dungeon,
Over there in that darkest far corner
So all the ashes are not so pungent.
Just below that covered up window
Where all that dark sunshine comes in,
And that big crack that runs throughout
Sends the left over smoke in a tailspin.
We keep it burning with used memories
All of those little logs laying over there,
When that big pile starts disappearing
Way in the back are somemore to spare.
Your job is to always keep the fire going
Never let that glowing flame die down,
For it controls the strings to my mind
If that happens then I have a meltdown.
Oh just one more thing you must know
If the memories are never quite enough,
And the firepit seems to lose it's smoke
Then bad thoughts must see the engulf.
Their kept over next to the back door
So you can get to them much faster,
Their shaped like a rolled up newspaper
When they go up it can be a disaster.
But the memories are so more special
And I hope to burn them all the time,
Running right through my crazy mind
Giving me just a little piece of mind.
On days when I'm a bit spontaneous
When my memories have all run out,
I fall back on those troubled thoughts
To keep myself from a total blackout.
Well that's the end of this interview
As you can see the job is monsterous,
And what did you say your name was sir
Around these parts they call me Conscience.
