Technicalities, Oh great technicalties,

I must confess - your time is good.

It saddens me, that I must see, my armed moralities,

Decorating the mood.


Nevertheless, I say I am glad.

Your brillant sparkle, that one surface,

Makes me stuck outside the mad,

Where empty boxes are made to faze.


You play Technicalities, You Throw

My words are Out Out where the oceans

Are Blue and the Sky Grows

Toward Down. A place full of potions.


For all my ever, Oh, oh my Gratitude. Is the

Magnifying glass that freezes

My Path. Touches the hand of Her,

And masks joys and covers your miss.


Technicalties! You teach me to expand!

To be the Bird that flies like the rest!

To Land! To fill the bottle and repent!

To drink from the sacred water within and bring the Pretty things, Words to my nest!


All of me is Gone!

My Blood is gained, don't you see? It

Purges the Criminals that dare to tackle the None,

And it makes us feel that we need


Technicalities! I must tell what creates your Whole!

She Rips the familar,

She Scolds the resonating soul,

And She brings you near!


She is the Star Maker who crafted

Land Beyond Time from Time

Beyond Land without Draft

Or a Single Dime.


And she teaches us to speak.

More, more and more.

Technicalities! Why do you raise your beak?

Don't you realise that it only results in gore?


Too much sand, too much blood.

Making a living word-beast, a paper

Out of Pure Irrelevance, A being of Nuts

Madness! Its too Long! Will we be Paupers?


A Blind and Poor Man Technicalties Is,

A Blind and Poor Man Technicalties Was.

We are hollow without the explanation of Her,

Bur still, we are glad. Because of her, our weight has mass.


It irritates me, like a bug about to be clapped.

"I do not give in! Its too simple. To see!"

And yet I do. I collaspe.

And we have become mindless bees.



When did everything become so common?


Why did everything need to become common?


And Thus: We confess


We Cry for the Forsaken Us.

We Cry for the Men we wave at and slaughter.

Without Her, we have nothing.

Without Technicalties, everything is ward.


Technicalities, oh technicalties,

I must confess - your time is good.

It saddens to see, myself, my work, my true blood...

Decorating the mood. Just That. Nothing more.