We’re all quite mad here,
Under a Cheshire moon.
There’s too much confusion,
Mind drowning out in tune?
–
Up too late accomplishing little,
Gyrating ‘round the words.
Laziness, corporeal madness,
Brain splitting into thirds.
–
Stacked ideas in a deck of cards,
You can’t build a house, they say!
But arrogantly, I acquiesce,
What peace can be won in play?