The Brave Little Abacus
Sol
With the rise of the largest star accounted for
We find ourselves, our history, the books our grandmothers wrote
All trapped beneath this burden concerning pots and pans
I’m trapped beneath this burden concerning my two hands
Maybe they’re miners, maybe they’re helpless
Extremities covered in sand
What if I'm dying? Tell me I’m dying
As long as it’s not by my hands