Approbation pours from one cup to another, STOP
You can cut the line with a word or a motion
Like a knife
It's the social flow
It gets disrupted and it goes

But what about the chemicals we learned about?
The hard science distilled from a million dissections
How does it make you feel
To realize everything is just a mechanism?

Strange.

And yet to be the one driving the machine stirs the same kind of emotion,
Evokes the same sense of dearness that it always has
Because no science can bring up the ultimate root
No exacto knife can extirpate the meaning of everything--

Oh, but it can.
An art was born of the wind,
And every no one knows what it means
We still rustle in the atmosphere,
Ultraviolet and weird
Gathered here in an advanced development
Protruding into the universe like an odd fruit

For now this is what everything meant,
And who knows what else
We work with the same old tools
To get the same old thrills
And we like it,
It makes a sound.