Never leaving the confines of the castle walls

The perpetual psyche forever falls

To the grace of peace in the white and frosty glare

Of the walls that bind them in to a home so fair

That keeps them dreaming of better things

And visions of all that money brings

To buy and sell their way out of bliss

Counting this world better than all of this

That is offered them from the hand of the White Queen

Who glides past and yet to them is seldom seen

That she has the answer to their golden dream

They wait and work and seek the better life

Without rancour in this outside world of strife

They live lives within the walls of peace

A prison for the mind and imagination deceased

That constant trial for the novel edge

The seeming constant billow of a sudden rage

That destroys all in its path to life and love

Conquering the hand within the glove…