I'm feeling very lazy,
And a bit hazy...

Love, this world has lost.
War, is what it will cost...

Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye...

It was once old and frail,
With books as much as bucket loads of mail...

Where will you be when the beast lashes out?
Will you have faith without a doubt...

For your love I long.
It sooths me like a beautiful song...