I cut the gold from Sif’s fair hair, then paid it back with craft and care. I shaped a storm in hammer’s form, through trick and wager, slyly borne. And from a sprig both soft and slight, I stole away the god of light.

Where ancient secrets still are unknown. For birds and eyes look back at the stone. Read me left or read me right, The Rosetta Stone brought me to light.

I walked the earth in ages past, through eras far too old to last. Some wore feathers, some wore scales, now I survive in bones and tales.

The other day, my friend and I were talking about hit songs from the seventies. And we both agreed that in nineteen seventy-four, there's no way that EVERYBODY was...

I hide a secret or a collar turned high, A uniform for shadows under a rainy sky. With a belt at my waist and buttons in a line, I’m the classic armor for a detective’s design.