And you may ask yourself, "How did I get here?"
And you may ask yourself, "Where is that shiny automobile?"

And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful house"
And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful face"

And when the task before you
is thousands of files,
staple - on staple - on staple
You bite that bullet,
Staple Lord.

With every fiber of your being,
you hunt them down
and wrangle them out
like you were born for the thing;
because you are alive and
it's the task before you.

you tear dem ******* out like
it's your Sistine Chapel.

do all things this way
nothing is wasted.

the light of your attention
reflecting back on you.