Test Pilot

The brain is shot
And little gels.
The pipes are clogged
And hidden bells
Go off in the distance
Constantly, but
Not unpleasantly.

“To arms!” they say,
But softly so,
To fill the hour,
But yet they go,
Go off in the distance
Invitingly, but
Not persuasively.

It took some time
To calm the mind.
It wandered far
To sing in kind:
Go off in the distance
Absently, but
Not incompletely.

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