Here I’m recognized by all. 
They stop by and sing and call,
And they drink butalbital
To my health.
I don’t like the public eye,
All day long I sleep and lie.
When they ask me, I reply:
"Lack of strength."

But they pester me at once:
What has brought you here to us?
You were always of high class 
and esteem!
What am I supposed to tell?
That I hit a wall and fell?
That it was a phantom spell?
Western schemes?