I, hypocrisy, hereby promise To cease loving wisdom To end philosophy And fight against knowledge By inaction By producing no visible artifact As the search has lead here It's time to cover the tracks In the excrement from the digestion Of too many books Kaleidoscopically rendered Across double the number of eyes Required for the dimensions I need Two is also more than necessary And legibility makes crime And thus rather than tap the brakes I'll remove the engine block And tend to the wild field With a casual nose Noting the smell of sagacity Throwing the record to the wind
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