And it was crucial enough to the winged inhabitants that
--at first, it was allotted a single golden room
Where they could go and lie down.
Then the founders expanded their brilliant notion and a
Palace rose in the cloud, as you'd expect a volcanic island:
Peering on the senses from the sea,
And the riches of the room swelled with
The sleepy dusk.
Composers, though, they loved that.
Never ones for sun tans or girls
They merely embraced the underlighted origin
The ground zero, like it was a bronze idol,
Or a memory.