The swan’s name was Ingrid
I read that book eleven times
Eleven times
On Sunday afternoons
When I had nothing else to do
But sit and memorize the details
Of the worlds in which I wish I lived and more than that the authors’ lives that wrote them
Oh

My World of Balance
World of Ruin
World of early mornings
Getting up to take a fearless dip into the Serpent Trench
And afternoons in Arden taking notes of all the words I didn’t know
With just two ages down and five more left to go
But all those hours stacked like bricks before the person that I wanted to be
Time to turn the pages
My house was big my world was small so it was waiting for me
Maybe I’ll read that book on more time

My robot armor
I put it on before I left my room
My little room
The clunky legs and clumsy arms were poorly made
But inside was the only thing I thought was true
I couldn’t share myself with anyone with any place with anything except the world I made
Written in the pages
Of the books I read and stories wrote and music that I practiced and played
When I had nothing to do but time

Back then I thought I read the alethiometer by grace
Back in my slanted room with books around me
I thought I knew that I already knew enough to be
The person I envisioned
Hello the future, with me
And Anne and Emily and Jane and Jo (like all those heroines a variation on a theme)

Instead I got myself a finished book, a guitar,
And a dream
Instead I got myself a tiny little window
On a screen
Yes me and everybody else

And I heard Crono speak
I beat that game eleven times
Eleven times
The summer I spent clearing plates
And thinking I was paying dues
And if I studied and applied myself
I’d be admired for my thoughts and work and worlds that I’d created from my mind
Turned to words on pages
All the truth I’d ever learned in secret passages that someday you’d find
When you would read my book one more time

Back then I thought I read the alethiometer by grace
Today I learn to read the alethometer by work
The work of a lifetime
But I have nothing to do but time