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Under the sheet that covers me,
- White as the snow but black as night,
I beg all visitors that be,
- "Close the door and turn off the light."
In the grip of ambivalence
- I've often winced and cried aloud.
Asked to bestow but a few pence
- I've hid within this bedding shroud.
Beyond this place of ruffled frills,
- Looms the horror of work and strife
But while me mum is paying bills
- I'm freed to sleep away my life.
It matters not that you berate,
- Or plead with me to set some goal,
I am the master of my fate
- I am the captain of my soul.