Reduce your aspirations towards this lofty tower

Jack, Jim, and Jose sell it liquid. Dry, it means to endure the wicked.

I hate this as it gets everywhere in your shoes Though with a towel above this in the sun you can snooze You can use this substance to make glass Just don’t let it get stuck all over your ass

I have a spine, but no bones to bear, Pages I hold, a story to share. With lines to fill, or sketches to make, What am I, for goodness sake?

Feathered yet I’ll never fly Upon me do the weary lie You’ll need me often in the night But rarely I’ll be used to fight!