You are a straight sighted screw
On the top of the table, too
You wanna go, go beneath.
To the other side, hugged by wood.
But you cant see, how to get
To there without, just dropping down.
But you can feel, feel Beneath,
The table getting stronger, so it may seem.
But you know, uncertainty
It can be delayed, but pendingly
Will it come, like a tide
And you'll be sad, once again
Were all on the same table top,
Some with gold, some with thorn.
