We can search in every valley and up every peak

Believing that each of us is special and very unique

And we are to a certain point in the essence of our being

But then again if you search enough you will be seeing

The end of this self perpetuating sense of false illusion

When you meet your doppelganger and begin your confusion

Yes, there before you is nothing less than completely you

At least in appearances if not in everything that you do

It’s a silly sort of question with very serious implication

Just ask the poets, queens and dreamer about this fascination

But in a restatement of the problem of the typing infinite monkeys

There is a one in  one hundred thirty five chance of hitting those keys

Those that make up the composition close enough to you and me

That we will actually become haunted by this folk sense of unwise punditry