"Nothing's so purile as meter and rhyme/When you can't see the ground from that ledge and this perch is so far, far from the nest/Gravity doesn't grant me the privelage of failure/ My bough never breaks/I don't stumble into anything/So I climb and I carve my initials in the bark with that feather I found, but it's all so contrived/My genes didn't bless me with the foresight of a sage, but I know how this will end/In apologies and ink on the page." -Circle Takes The Square