I keep my kings in little boxes,
the littlest of the littlest,
and strangest of foxes,
and every desire I have I hid it in houses
of unsung mystery and of rockets.

I keep my kings in little boxes,
but do you wonder about the causes?
Cause I never do, and all of my closets
are filled with desire and I’m unconscious.

I keep my kings in little boxes,
the littlest of stories, the strangest of axes,
and after they get out they smell like the chocolates
I always forget to eat when the watches…