With a turn of the crank
There was no one to thank
But the God of this world
Who keeps our toes curled
While the whole place
Takes up only a tiny space
In being our everything
Cosmically inclined to sing
In a mixed chorus of blessings
A heaping helping of second guessing
About the real meaning behind
The prime constant of the universal mind
Keeping the whole as a balance of one
Swallowing the sadness of things undone



