I have taken the pedestal down
Where sat the bust of Thought
Busted thought with his
Angelic daydreaming gaze
And winged head when I finally
Bought him for my sixtieth
He'd only one wing left
Turning into a sphinx
You can't pick him up
By the wings anymore
But lift him by the base
And place him on a table
There's still something Grecian
About him it's obvious
He was among the first
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