- They fuck you up, your King of Kings. They may not mean to but they do. They leave you trunkless legs of stone, And add some visage, just for you.
- Whose land this is I do not know The statue fell down long ago; No one will mind me stopping here To watch the sand o’er ruins blow. My camel friend must think it queer To rest with no oasis near And precious little shade these days Gives Ozymandias, I fear. (1/2)
