Our eyeless stares, the endless stairs constrain;

Figures of proportional intention,

We blandly trudge from plane to transformed plane.

Warping up and wefting down in vain,

Aching for a canvas of convention,

Our eyeless stares, the endless stairs constrain.

Incidental in some artist’s brain;

Ageing embryos in mock pretension,

We blandly trudge from plane to transformed plane.

Playing out a lifestyle so mundane;

Stepping casually across dimensions,

Our eyeless stares, the endless stairs constrain.

Hear our lipless screams of inner pain

From hyperbolic heads in meek dissension;

We blandly trudge from plane to transformed plane.

So as the mathematical explain,

Confusion is this mother of inventions.

Our eyeless stares, the endless stairs constrain;

We blandly trudge from plane to transformed plane.