No future to plan for the future is here 
now it's fine and it's here and it's fine and it's gone and the future is here.

County hall and the hallways within on a triangular plot watching the records that spin, notations on notes that hang on the cross and who votes like this 
anyway?

I'm counting pollen grains 
swell after summer rains,
who counts the counters 
that count the counters?
and what does it amount to
anyway?

This man is related and relayed through 
the memories made and I've 
made more than a mountain
of them

and generally speaking 
if not hiding we're seeking 
and why do we do that 
anyway?

but it's not the answers I look for when I come to a closed door
it's the axe to smash it down.

Treading water is easier than air and who wants to be doing either anywhere?

Confused?
possibly so
I go where the thoughts take me and rake up the residue.

No future that plans for the future is here 
crystal clear in her eyes.

Everything stems from the core,
the random seed number
this need to explore,
the door 
and if things are so random how can things be so definite?