I can almost see the cogs that make you cogitate, the very cogs for the work that you seem to reciprocate.
Deem the truth to be self-evident, marked as such, possibly cause of a life decadent...
A deficientness you seem to have naught, for the thoughts, the world to which you have brought...
Endure well, my fellow confrère... for this system has only a handful of us to spare...