Oh, say can. Oh, say can. Oh, say can. You see the stars bleed their red troubles across the junked night sky. You hear the white light of the universe grinding on an axis bold as love. You know the blue purpose of our future. This is the space age. And we are here to go.
I write. I read. I play music. I behave accordingly. I weep at childish things. I loathe injustice. I'm not sure what justice is. I'm easily confused by numbers. I worry over the things I like to make up on the spot. I think letters are frozen insects, paper, a white amber. I think, therefore I am confused enough to like to mull things over.