Charles
Charles, Charles
In an anatomical position
His chest protrudes, his presence concludes
That he's quite an exhibition
He stands in a corner, distal and repressed
But on his own will, for it's for his best
His silence is golden, his silence intrudes
But his reason for silence is one that eludes
Charles, Charles
Is educated in charts and text
He know them well, like living Hell
For his head is to them next
He hasn't eyes, he hasn't ears nor lips
He lost his heart, his brain, his life and his fingertips
As of now, I'm sure you're wondering what poor Charley be
He is the very frame of man, beyond a mystery
Autor(es): Petunia-Liebling MacPumpkin
