The Death of Imagination

it makes you blind, it does you in
it makes you think you're pretty tough
it makes you prone to crime and sin
it makes you say things off the cuff

it's very small and made of glass
and grossly overadvertised
it turns a genius to an ass
and makes a fool think he is wise

it could make you regret your birth
or turn cartwheels in your best suit
it costs a lot more than it's worth
and yet there is no substitute

they keep it on a higher shelf
the older and more pure it grows
it has no color in itself
but it can make you see rainbows
you can find it on the Bowery
or you can find it at Elaine's
it makes your words more flowery
it makes the sun shine, makes it rain
you just get out what they put in
and they never put in enough