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I think, Madame, I am a fish

In an all too rounded bowl

I swim in circles round my dish

With an all forgotten goal


I think, Madame, I am a fly

Splayed out upon a web

I lie in wait on tacky silk

For a most inglorious end


I think, Madame, I am a sheep

Thrown in with the heard

Listening to the rambling bleats

On topics most absurd


But I know, Madame, I am of man

And should not be so distraught

It’s just a certain feeling, ma’am

That things are never as they ought