You sometimes make me feel like a megalomaniac. Is that bad?
Are these feelings that I'm feeling what's expected to be had?
You infringe my mind in such circuitous ferment.
It's a proclivity, these thoughts
Yet such propensity is irrevocable.
An inscrutable contraband reverberating in a sedulous manner grasping tender hands.
Perhaps it's not transient, but equitable.
Not scathing, but salutary.
Well there's only one way to ascertain.
That is simply to acculturate.

If we were alone
We wouldn't be so together.
If sadness was heavy,
Maybe sad thoughts shouldn't tether.
In a world of dogmatism
We mustn't be the dogs.
Open your mind
Huddle up your logs.
Don't assume my intentions
are just for redemption.
The only redemption I need
Is your love and affection.
Our world is our conception.

If I were truly of the composition of man
Would I still have this constitution of a god?
I lay here in an internal slumber as these savages attack and feast like dogs.
Though my prison is of good intention
I now know of the divine divinity of my divine intervention.
For no one is of greater power
In enough to remove one's soul.
And no one is of greater entertainment
Than to buy that of which is being sold.
And no one is of greater influence
Than the conqueror who does as he's told.
I am God.
For I am in presence
In times of weal and woe.

Shall I reckon all my reckonings?
Or shall I leave them be at best?
Are my reckoning of intellect?
Or are others' more and mine just less?
Could one differentiate what others have begun?
Or are we to remain and pretend tis' fun?
He who swears best always pertains to such a mess.
Art thou entertained by the thought of a child's game?