I cling to corners, dark and high, A fragile trap where shadows lie. I spin a home, but build no door, And catch what flies, but walks no more. A touch will break my dusty thread, Left behind when the hunter's fled.

I stretch out on the cold, hard floor, From wall to wall, from door to door. I drink the dust and never burst, A thousand steps have done their worst. In ancient lore I sailed the sky, But grounded now, I quietly lie.

Some say I belong in the kitchen but I'm at your office, at the bar and sometimes in your hotel room. Destroy this bean to unleash my beast for when you grind me right, get me wet and hot, I keep you up at night and I keep you going all day.

I'm always used in boxing; sometimes I'm used inside a box, and I'm never in the box if the box is inside a car.

Take one of these and it'll last longer, assuming there's no overexposure or Nickelback concert.