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The days are coming, I can see them quite clearly
But they contain only the silence of cacophony
& meaningless sincerity
I have become a sounding brass
With no notes, no music, no reason to play
No ear to please
The fall's figs are ripe,
Who will harvest them?
I find I no longer care for the taste
Of living -
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per·son \ˈpər-sən\ (noun) - an ephemeral collection of small, irrational decisions
The fun thing about evolution (and science in general) is that it happens whether you believe in it or not.
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