May I ask why,
though I have worked all my life and times on a singular subject,
toiled day in and day out,
never missed a day of class,
studied hard and made novel discoveries in my field,

...

why you have given your student such a beautiful world to live in,
and privately consider me an expert of unrivaled caliber?

Why, oh why do you give me such a line of credit?

And why do you love me?

I guess some dedicate their lives to math,
Others take naked pictures with makeup and sleep just fine

I guess some people engineer rockets,
Others quit guitar and ******* with self pity

I suppose some people grow up in abject poverty
Others are complaining they weren't "handed the sort of character to serve in the military."

I guess consciousness is an odd sort of science,
And I guess there's a lot you could say about us.

i see a rock
i see a rock
i see a rock
i see a rock
i see a rock
i see a rock
yes, but the land is different here

and it melted his heart,
from the day he began noticing

he became a detective of the earth
his passion for deducing
those deeper truths.

when he transcended the utilitarian,
he stumbled unintentionally on fortuitous prospects.

he sees through time
in the layers of the earth
and has become his own reason
for examination!

let's all celebrate the geologist

i think i wanna be a recluse
recluse
cause we're full of contradictions
i wanna sleep in the refuse
refuse
it's just an alias of mine

now i wanna be a recluse
recluse
i see the strain in every star i find

i know i'm the strain in every star i find

well, you could give me the world
but i wouldn't even want it
bring this poem to my neck
would i be eager to confront it?
we're stuck in a paradox loop
and i'm starting to feel nauseous
when you realize there's nothing you can do
it's best to be cautious

I send forth tendrils,
A radiating darkness
And pull everything in towards the center forever

It leaves an image on my surface,
Sometimes
Such a satisfying execution

But when I remember what I'm doing... ****!

I have no light of my own
We have ways of saying it
You give me ***** looks

You are all my children
My spawn
Whether you admit it or not

And we all share properties,

But only I can say I am The Sickness.

Charmer,
Put on your best face.
That's what they see!
Our work is to the curve.

And stay far away
You are not,
You are
You
Y

Write
write write,
I do not read
Despite
The fact I understand...

Most of my life

Has been spent listening, adjusting!

Write
write write,
I will not read
I'm right
And when I'm wrong

You'll come for me,
And that'll happen either way! Ha haaa!

So yes,
You're cool
Because you stayed
In school
I left
Because the world is so insane!

So set
Me straight
And if you can,
I'll wait,
Or... I will try
To carve out my fate! Ha haaa!

Let's talk about my forced position.

The nucleation of demons,
You allege that I allow it.

No one wants it!

Hey, maybe I'll become an electrician.

Would you foster my comeuppance?

I've got no choice in any matter.

Who the **** am I even angry at?
Maybe Bowser?

Ha, hahaha.

Back to being depressing.

The original stigma comes from the fact
That I'm only complaining to myself
There is no oversight
I am tearing myself apart
And you don't care
In some scenes you only laugh
And now every time I laugh, I choke
Because I don't want to be the one
It's not right
There should be something,
Something established for this person.