Murder and Create - Million Dead

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 be suited 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

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