I can sing an empty tune
Air in perfect pitch
A silent temptress
Moaning inadvertently
Who should I become?
Now that I've ridden the wave of these vibrations?
And laid in the sweat
That I pored from ancient temptations
Romance is simplicity
But how I quake in the pupil of complexity
And sometimes your over composition
Gives offense and is blind.
    Along with my five feelings a minute
But it works because you bore easy
The flaw lies in our trained disposition
    Of unempathetic nervous systems
Placing bets
Because assupmtion feeds more mouths than a herd of cattle ever could