Allow me to remain here, even if only to be seized and put to use by the very forefathers who built these deep and hidden passageways. Allow me to walk with them until I become sticky from the oils that burn in their lamps. Grant me this, then, when and if I return, set me ablaze amidst the very tulips to which they claim their own homage, Their disloyalty forever unnoticed and they are unashamed, for here is where they would make you fear the butterfly's wings beating DOWN AIR upon your own face. Allow me to remain here, amist my stench, my mess, my chaos, and my craze so that one day they may leave us and we may forever more-be-rid of them and their great disgrace, and they may go off, forever or more, chastised. For in the end...they stick to their guns like orange peel floating in sangria.