Upon a word of honour
I seek that which is greater
Greater than the real
Greater than the ephemeral
Upon a word of honour
I laugh amidst the danger
Gone may be the sunny weather
Swallowed by the dark malinger
Still, I live and laugh upon that word
Pray, whatever may be my misericord
Whether I be in misery
Or whether I be all bubbly
Live I not unto it,
Such a life would be fit
For the Queen of the Misfit
Such is not my own bit!
And what would be that word
Should you wonder on your own accord
None other except the name of my Lord
Shining there, with peace, in his abode!
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