Hysteron proteron,
hyperbole superlative,
how far can constants go,
before they become related?
Its magic squares and magic circles,
magic hexigonic structures.
Mimicing sounds from the start of time,
not having yet found their rhyme.
So when I hear the two eighty eight,
I knew it’d peaked,
they’d be no debate.
Then what did I find when I checked again,
Yes two sixteen – it dropped again.
So then I looked up the prime of it,
came to thirteen twenty one.
So its bound to drop a bit.
But ever since numerology,
numberipobia sets down upon me.
The only escape is to look it up,
and calculate
without gods cup.
The holy grail we all see,
those images of structures and the holy see.
They provide understanding,
relateability,
egregiously defending,
our logicistical tree.
Now that the wars,
have moved on inside.
And their fighting their wits,
for an emotional prize.
Hell bent defending,
artificial greens.
Keen to attack,
those haze of unseens.
Belting across,
or flying right over.
Someone must die,
to process disaster.
Kick them off,
boot them out,
who’ll survive,
that’s no way to debate.
Preying for parents,
critically caught,
Just because,
of the bug you brought.
Its no covid fact,
that the strong will win.
if they’ve got half a heart,
They’ll stop that sick grin.
Alright,
business is doing it tough.
Staying at home,
avoiding the rush.
But winning the war,
is just half the battle.
The rest of the time,
we’ll be wanting to waddle.