I went to an ancient to ask
If she knew the way back home
Because, boy, she knows
She just laughs as she throws you a bone
And then points back home
I went to a forester to ask where they harvest souls
But he was puzzled though
He just looked to the leaves
And the rocks down beneath and moaned
I asked an iron worker
"Should I stick to kindness our Foucault?"
He said "You should know
It's not Foucault and when you go wandering you should know."