Mnspector Iorse - This Town Needs Guns

What’s wrong with all the evidence

I heard a man say.

While his mind was lost in transient thought.

Each one gave way so another could form,

but in truth he knew it couldn’t be fought.

This 'science' fails, the silent.

You won’t catch me now.

I am someone else,

impossible to tell.

Each entrance an exit

to guide me on,

or end what I had begun?

Each entrance an exit.

Why don’t you step on off?

Cut this chord take it up a notch.

What source is all this arogance

I whisper lightly,

while his eyes were burning holes in my back.

Look at you debating half the outcomes.

So new 'truth' concludes without attestation.

I had placed my faith in calculus.

The equations formed my character.

While I’m sure I’m no Pythagoras.

In the future I will question their worth.