As I tunnel deeper, my hand churning through the buried past
I come upon treasures of a sort, time capsules that didn’t last
Broken pieces of things, from days gone by
Objects that, at the time, would cost you high
But are now just broken ornaments that have amassed

Pieces of paper, that signal good times ahead
Pieces of boxes that threaten to make you dead
The contracts that held the buyer
to pay pieces of 8 or higher
Pieces of what I’m looking for avoid my gaze instead

But this treasure hunt didn’t set off from a jetty
The treasure I’m looking for is actually quite petty
I’m using my hand to tunnel down
Into this chair of two seats, dun brown
Cos I’m looking for tobacco down the side of the settee


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