Some say methinks I'm paranoid, Paranoid to fight the void, The void that sleeps,the void who hunts, The void that preys,prays never- preys never tin the morn, Because we mourn,what those who have gone before Him,have borne. For when we are born, Some,He says,must die, That invalid wound of being a being, and for the rest, The megre,insignificant and wretched, ...Our foolish...- are foolhardy puissant individuals, And precarious fob eachother off as, Whose persona is not pellucid, Forget their ignorance-through the leviathan, So is it best,not to be the best, The distinctive,innate and innocuous, But just.....Ordinary