fuelled by my hate for Academia.

August 10, 2013 § Leave a comment

Lonely words on paper sing

Black ink sways to and fro

I staple the sheets to hand them in

At nine o’clock tomorrow

 

Lonely words on paper sing

Praises of a higher kind, although

These fall off their papery wings

Down they spiral, down they go

 

And hell it burns these wondrous things

Lonely words on paper lie

So for their errors, for their sins

Consumed by flame, their praises die

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