The day will arrive when all clocks will stop,

and you’ll have no voice to talk.

You’ll be housed in a very small room,

with no ways of leaving.

You will be living in an underground city,

remote from all the remaining.

The sun will have its back turned away,

the darkness is all you will be seeing.

Your woody room will be connected to a chimney,

painted with your names as headings.

Before you will be a TV,

shouting all your tragedies.

You will try reaching for the remote,

but it’ll have no batteries.

Some will pay you a visit,

but only for a greedy reason.

They will tell you all their problems,

without lending you their ears.

And you will scream at them,

but none will answer.

Amidst all the confusion,

they’ll leave you traditional beer.

And you will infer,

that you’ve become a tarven.

Amidst all this confusion,

a cow will keep you company.

but only to taste your beer,

and continue its wandering.