Sheherezade, I want you to know: you’re in love with a man who does not have a soul

Though you may have thought, as I did long ago, that it might be something that I could let go

Alas, ‘twas not the angst of a child who read too much Camus and smoked too much pot

If you find me out, there will be no doubt:

Open the metal panel that guards all of my controls