Being here before the bible,
I have learned nothing has ever been planned.
Byproducts avoided bullets,
Because all the bandits all have lost an eye.  

Never can put my finger on it,
Newly **** imagines that I wish I knew,
Fogging up the nightmare's window.
Now evaporate back into your nimbus.

I can see past the eyes,
They all think they are invisible.
Like a heated igloo in a blizzard,
Imploding inevitable but still comforting to look at.  

Everywhere I sense the uneasiness,
That stampede of silent elephants.
Eyeballing the problem might just scare it off,
But everything equal can still tip a scale.
  
Pieces of this puzzle,
Are too interesting not to play with,
Making products through plagiarizing the ideas,
Given to us by our planet.  

But nothing is ever planned.