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We are the stardust of our own story

The stories that humble and humiliate

To keep our wretched impulses on short leashes

And even the bravest of our lot

Are nothing more than the shit on the soles of the dead

There has been no redemption accept

To keep the tyrants preoccupied with other matters

And our goal is to stay put and accept our demise

For the truth that cannot help but to be and exist

The numbers themselves are the proven beast

For it knows its name when summoned

The calculus of our psychosis

Is but pure obsession of delusions

To perseverate on the gravity that which we blindly

Fall - every time - you'd think we learnt by now

But we would rather be passively entertained than adhere to the boring didactic of active intervention