my room is a museum a lifetime s of my work i am the last mohican i stand proud although i m hurt i keep a cup of secrets from which i never drink i am an ancient king who sits proud but never thinks so if i find one more ring of yours mixed up among my things i just might sell all my belongings to make sure i ve cut all my strings and if i find one more note crumpled up inside my coat i m moving back to carolina where i ll live out on the coast i have a box of trinkets i count them one by one each one is a keepsake from a war that i have won i have a daily schedule a comfortable routine watch months roll by with pleasure like girls walking down the street i lost all my ambition could ve settled for less but if i can t have you i don t care about the rest if i find one more strand of black hair under my night stand