We speak as we should be silent,
Believing we know the universe.
As if we are knowing and understanding,
As if we had rehearsed.
We always place ourselves upon the pinnacle,
Of every single thing there is to understand.
And we draw the maps,
Always long before we really understand.
Our world is still flat,
Yet we hold ourselves in such high regard.
And we have lack any wisdom,
Even our foresight falls so short,
Where it all is measured from.
I think and therefore I know I am.
Still we trespass leaving our marks in the dirt and sand.
We always draw the maps,
Long before we understand.