I do not know the way to subtle dreams.

I care not how you might define a sin,

but give me a lever and I shall move the world,

though with my tools I let the Devil in.

I do not comprehend your tiresome thoughts

that float like bubbles, useless, in the air.

For there is steel and iron to be shaped

and molecules to sunder if I dare.

I'm no philosopher or butterfly.

I know just who I am and know my place.

I'll pour the molten glass and hammer nails,

whilst you will wander off to outer space.

My mind is made of gears and clockwork parts,

while your mind ebbs and flows like distant sea.

You are a bit of sand stuck in my head,

which slows my work and my efficiency.

And yet, and yet, my darling, here we are,

two worlds entwined in unexpected bliss.

What use is science or intense debate

when all creation's found within a kiss?