| An Ceann Corr | |
| "They Know the Tune We Don't" | |
| Many days pass and we deny our own ignorance. Saws sing. Money is worthless at its core. Cups hold our liquids by their own choice. Infants know rhythms even while at their mother's breasts. Church bells ring truer than those making them ring. Singers hide the fact that their voice does not come from themselves. The ones that lay under the blanket of half-cognition know the tune, but I don't, and you don't. | |