What does one do when the inspiration is merely sensory?nA mind set fast on satisfaction, a heart riddled by uncertaintynI found myself befuddled by the tragic rapture of reverienTeacher, isn't this straddling lesson a tiny bit extreme?nnI need an earnBut you bring your gavel alongnI need calm, I need silence, forgiving eyelids, and arms that I can fall intonI need an earnnAnd you call yourselves open-mindednAnd you claim that you're quite tolerantnAnd you pride yourselves as anti-superficialnBut what are these whispers I hear behind my back?nnI threw back the glass not once but five times, destroying the cells of miserynI laughed and smiled the whole night long and never once did I feel guiltynWalk and walk and walk and walk and talk and talk and talk and talk - that's all I ever want to do anymorenShot up the classroom, raped in the bathroom, but can't find love? Life's a whorennI need an earnBut you bring your gavel alongnI need calm, I need silence, forgiving eyelids, and arms that I can fall intonI need an ear