Murder and Create-Million Dead
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TXT Murder and Create-Million Dead 文本歌词
How should I begin?
I find myself residing
at the dried out end of a dead history.
All my thoughts are dirt
scattered on a coffin,
and I a dilettante funereal spectator here.
How should I presume?
A besuited bourgeois mourner,
virgin to surrender and vivid sense,
I scour lichened stones,
desperately seeking
Daedalus's paternal secret of where we will land.
Well I was born with four fingers on each hand,
and with my eight fingers and my thumbs I do maths.
Once again, how should I begin?
I've started weak and I'm stuttering,
But I have remembered all my lines.
It seems that I have thus presumed
to talk of maths in front of crowded rooms,
but I'll make the two times table mine.
How should I begin?
I find myself residing
at the dried out end of a dead history.
How should I presume?
A besuited bourgeois mourner,
virgin to surrender and vivid sense,?
Calculus finishes me,
I don't follow trigonometry,
I've got nothing to add to algebra
the more complex functions I don't remember
But arithmetic
The absolute zero
is arithmetic on fingers and toes.
I have remembered all my lines,
and I'll make the two times table mine.
I will not presume, but I will thus begin.
