When Sheila her apartment leaves
The elevator opens wide,
Spotless in its shining pride.

The rooftop her orange hair receives,
With rising sun and copter bright,
Ready for its morning flight.

Then Sheila to her job does fly—
Another tower waiting fair
To take the girl with red-orange hair.

An elevator opens wide
To let her down a floor or two,
That she may do what she would do.

She sells an island, buys the moon,
Ventures capital out through space,
With click of keys beneath tense face.

Then Sheila stops, and smiles long,
And thinks upon her Brian’s song,
Now risen in her very strong.

And out she looks through window clear
Upon the city she holds dear,
One spire a victorious spear.

And up she rises, queen-like stands,
And seems to see those singing words
That in their love fly round like birds,

Enveloping, in feath’ry might,
The majesty of manhood’s rise
That leaps from earth to waiting skies.

Then wordless now, the song goes on,
A soaring thing of soaring dawn
That does not stop and will not bend,

Nor break or sway for foe or friend,
But in its triumph over pain
Goes ever on as its own gain!

Now back into her chair she flies!
A daring deal is on the rise!
A thing called fracking has begun;

She’s looked, and seen a baby sun.
She’ll loan him money, he’ll succeed;
New bits of earth will soon be freed!

Yes, freed to be the best they can,
Arising by the side of man,
And Sheila will have made a ton!

When Sheila her high office leaves
The elevator opens wide,
Spotless in its shining pride.

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