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Old Stuff: OneirologyOnce I wished to be a birdIf only just to flyA life apart, a life awayA whole world to denyHowever, now I'd be a birdTo see the world arrayedTo know the truth, to feel the wind,To watch time's slow paradeThe auguries inherentWhen observing such a viewI long to see, and long to beAnd flight I thus pursue.
Extremes of MediocrityThey weren't very stupid, they weren't all too brightThey were never quite wrong and never quite rightSome had on blinders and some had no eyesSome looked down tunnels and missed on the prizeThey were never asleep, they were never awakeNo one was objective; make no mistakeThey all picked apart with a slant on the worldAll eager to claim, have their own flags unfurledAnd while they saw truth yet believed much too smallThe canvassing darkness still held them in thrallStepping back would have solved things, a loosening of gripBut control's love of irony continued the slip.They took it for granted that they were correctAnd took every chance that they could to objectIn harsh grating voices to views not their ownWith innermost interest in building a throneUpon which they could sit and survey what was theirsOr so they professed as they dressed up in airsThey thought this was truth, or as close as they'd getBut the first slightest error was enough to upsetThe entire affair,