She kept her brain inside a jar Tucked safely away on a high shelf In the study, to be used only when needed. Which, for her, was not often. And so there it sat, just gathering dust, Not thinking about anything at all.
They sat on the grass, all bald heads and bare feet And flowing white robes, as others poked fun. They turned their eyes skyward in practiced performance, They turned their eyes skyward and stared at the sun. No one knows why they did it, they sat there in silence, Unsettling scene in a picturesque park. Tears flowed down their cheeks as they stared at the fire, Unblinking until they saw nothing but dark.
He walks through a desolate wasteland alone, A fistful of daisies in hand. He's not sure where he's going, forgot where he's been He just aimlessly wanders the sand. He belongs to no country, religion or creed Adrift, the last man in the world. And although it seems crazy, he clutches those daisies, Just hoping to find the last girl.
Welcome to The Conservatory. My name is Winslow Smudge, and these are my thoughts laid bare. You have my permission to wander these grounds at your leisure - feel free to enjoy, ponder or mock (if you must). But please keep in mind that some of these thoughts are quite delicate, and all are very special to me.