Incidentally, and sorry to digress
Just give me a moment, I don't mean to depress
But all the shrieks & laughter are just chemical & planned
And what's in your hand never touches your hand

You know I love you in the chemical sense
Although I'm formed into a strange kind of lens
To focus on these fickle ones obsessed with pursuit
I don't play their games, but I do love their truths

And it's odd:
These strange little people
Wandering all around
Pointless and pretty
Strewn all about on the ground

Like ornamental plates
And wax cakes

Once again, I'm not a downer in the end
But there are lies and games I can't seem to defend
Like for convenience we might grant authority
But inherent power seems crazy to me