million dead - murder and create lyrics
how should i begin?
i find myself residing
at the dried out end of a dead history.
all my thoughts are dirt
scattered on a coffin,
and i a dilettante funereal spectator here.
how should i presume?
a besuited bourgeois mourner,
virgin to surrender and vivid sense,
i scour lichened stones,
desperately seeking
daedalus’s paternal secret of where we will land.
well i was born with four fingers on each hand,
and with my eight fingers and my thumbs i do maths.
once again, how should i begin?
i’ve started weak and i’m stuttering,
but i have remembered all my lines.
it seems that i have thus presumed
to talk of maths in front of crowded rooms,
but i’ll make the two times table mine.
how should i begin?
i find myself residing
at the dried out end of a dead history.
how should i presume?
a besuited bourgeois mourner,
virgin to surrender and vivid sense,?
calculus finishes me,
i don’t follow trigonometry,
i’ve got nothing to add to algebra
the more complex functions i don’t remember
but arithmetic
the absolute zero
is arithmetic on fingers and toes.
i have remembered all my lines,
and i’ll make the two times table mine.
i will not presume, but i will thus begin.
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