"Is there some great design?"
I ask, sipping my wine.
Standing next to the hearth
The fire is warm, it will do no harm
"But the way things
Fit together, I do not know whether,
If there is some plan,
Or if this is the design of a madman
Everything plays a role,
Some violent, and out of control,
The hunter and the hunted,
Make me think God is stunted,
When it comes to morals so fine,
As I drink my wine,
I sleep in this room, warm and comfy,
Without any gloom,
But the gloom inside my head,
Contemplating my obituary,
In distant years, when I am dead.
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