When your plans or your hands turn to dust. When you knock down a door with a thrust. An object of lust, impolite to discuss, This place to hang pearls when men. . .

Where they berate, cremate, or congregate, You can also hear me in an estate. When I lie down, I'm immeasurable, impossible to hold. But who I am, as the answer you seek, you've known before getting old.

A white one can mean high end service. A red one that’s laced up can mean you are ready to fight. A leather one that doesn’t fit can set you free.

I hold your thoughts but cannot think. Used to recall what minds may blink. I travel light, on desks I stay, but never speak a word you say. With lines I’m dressed, in me they dwell your secrets kept, I serve you well.

I’m rational, and out of all the things that we are, the one before me is scared of me for what I ate.