Oh down at the tavern the children are singing around their round table and around me still. Did you hear what it said? I only said how there is a pewter urn pinned to the tavern wall, as old as old is able to be and be there still. I said, the poets are tere I hear them singing and lying around their round table and around me still. Across the room is a wreath made of a corpse's hair, framed in gla** on the wall, as old as old is able to be and be remembered still. Did you hear what it said? I only said how I want to be there and I would sing my songs with the liars and my lies with all the singers. And I would, and I would but it's my hair in the hair wreath, my cup pinned to the tavern wall, my dusty face they sing beneath. Poets are sitting in my kitchen. Why do these poets lie? Why do children get children and Did you hear what it said? I only said how I want to be there, Oh, down at the tavern where the prophets are singing around their round table until they are still.