Backward along the arrow of time there is a CB radio sitting on a desk
The child that was me reached out for the squelch knob
Cranked it clockwise
And in doing so, stilled the multitude of voices
That drowned understanding
Forward along the arrow of time, there is a keyboard sitting on a desk
The man that is me has no squelch knob to reach for
The multitude shrieks out its ignorance
And understanding gasps for oxygen
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