In the Corner of the Room

In the corner of the room, next to whitewashed walls,
Sits a chair that's all alone I don't know why it's there.
It's intricate designs are overshadowing a tiny box that's bound up tight.
I see the box and it's crying very hard, for it knows it's all alone.
It's maple sides used to be good for something now they're soaking wet!

And I don't know what to say to this thing.
Should I even say anything?
I don't know what to do about this mess, yeah.

In the corner of the room, ever slightly crooked,
There's a square table that has curved eagles' feet.
It's been molded to be perfect but I see that it's not so, it's flaws are plain for me to see.
In all it's imperfection it supposes to support a basket that only multiplies the level of impurity.
The basket's full of fake flowers and faux leaves and pearls.
And there inside this blanket of false beauty lies the crying box.

Oh, what do I say to this?
And what do I do?
I know I have to do something, yeah.

In the corner of the room, the blinds are shut tight.
Keeping as much light as possible from the inside.
The shadow of a shaking box quivers along with it, so hard the lid falls off.
A sweet aroma fills the air and I close my eyes just to breathe
In this beautiful thing I had almost ignored.

And how do I explain anything at all?
What do I say to the tears about to fall?
I need to take action.

In the center of the room, a circle of chairs,
Point and laugh at the charade outside of their own zone.
The chair ignores; the table straightens up; the basket looks it's best.
But the small box cries on and on and the sensation only grows sweeter.
Then my own eyes start to water on their own!

The time is now, to do something.
The time is now to say something!
But what do I say?

In the corner of the room a tea box has cried itself to nothing!
And all around they stand and laugh their ignorant heads off!
The wood beneath it is worthless now as well!
The priceless tea that it once carried has come to naught.
It all comes to nothing, There's nothing left!

The time for action has come and gone!
There is no hope,
There is no hope! There is no hope!

There's nothing left, but potential, it's all up to potential,
The box is worse than empty for it's got baggage to carry.
It didn't choose to be made. Yet it can't choose to die it swears it will never come to that. It really doesn't want this, all it wants is a good friend by it's side.