I've been staring at the screen
Waiting for magic to put words on the screen,
But, I've finally had to rely on my fingers,
Or maybe the thought of coffee,
I pushed the dispenser button,
Has stimulated my cortex, or whatever,
So the word making release valve has been tripped.
It’s hard to say the true mechanism at work.
I've no actual window in my head,
And even if I did it would be hard
To get past all the blood and gore
Even if I didn't need microscopic vision
To see the electrons bouncing around
Like some pin ball machine,
Which is probably a good thing,
Because then I’d wonder
Who was working the flippers
And putting quarters in the machine?
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