Going in circles on end,
Like a spider's web meant to snare me;
Should I tear free?..
 
Is it a story of guile?
While I smile, my soul is cursing;
I'm hungry, thirsty;

Where's that GOLDEN BOWL?

 

Leaks and figs; zesty sprigs;

Tasty, sav'ry bowl!
Visions of kitchens of plenty.
Luscious memories of gold! 
 

Once there was bondage for life;
I've been freed from my strife, yet I look back--
Should I back-track?..

​

Call me a slave by the day ,
But the evenings' delights were the payoff; 
Richness, sweetness!
Oh, that GOLDEN BOWL.

​

Sure, I was fed as my wage in that captive age
I was there, in the snare, should I care?
What's the goal: save my soul, or eat well?

 

Marching in circles on end
Toward a nameless place where we might see..
Foods that excite me..

Weighing the promise of lands
While holding only sand in my hands;
I'm hungry and thirsty;
Oh, that GOLDEN BOWL.