A man he sat upon a wicker chair
Reading through his morning news
Not that anything was important there
But it was the better thing he could choose.

What let this man into simplicity
Twas nothing more than a lack of calling
You see, he's lost all electricity
For all his life was slowly stalling.

His wife had left him, 12 years up in smoke,
The dog he cherished had followed her out
And as they left, she left him flat broke
Forbade him within a wallowing drought.

All she left him was a wicker basket
The house, by right belonged to him
So long he thought this was a casket
That life now became so dark and dim.

But months of pity grew rusty and old
And waking up one day, the man moved on
The house he lived he suddenly sold
And everything he held was quickly gone.

All he took was the basket he had
He dismantled it fully with the utmostcare
Upon finding a hill he sat so sad
As he transformed it into a chair.

"For too long I've lived in the shadow
But finally I can see at long last
And with a twitch of my will and my brow
The pain I've forgotten, it's all in the past!"

That chair it followed him to his new home
Where he set it up nice, quiet alone
Beside a nice table, decored with chrome
And resting behind it a decorative stone.

This chair so long was his prison
Now lives to be his sole salvation
From despair this new form has risen
With it a form of new inspiration.