Here I stand in this buildingOf 1816, Of before the World Wars. The infant age of steam. If these walls could tell usOf times before these, Would the humbling talesBring us to our knees?They don't speak, Although they whisper, it seems, They have something to say. They groan at the beams. If these walls could talk, Would they laugh, would they scream?Would they say we are mad?Would we know what they mean?