The Waking Dystopia

The rub about infinity
The getting to bottom of things

Every time you say Science or Study
I think of Dark Matter and percentages

It just always keeps going
No matter where you look
Forward, Backward out wards. Out. Wards.

Look ma, my scream is on the block chain
On the cell phone
I got at the store chain
Every month they autodraft
Drafts sell at the pub
Is debt your life blood

I Quantitatively Ease my suffering
In baths of electric steem

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