Diane Hine - At Sixes and Sevens lyrics

Minds are avid part-time sleuths half asleep with sensors set. Whet by fret and tripped by threat, laying bare conflicting truths. Inside private polling-booths clues are vetted, outcomes bet. Living things which move need brains, tuned response to changing world. Evolution's path unfurled specialized machine which trains. Trial and error process strains random information swirled. Primed to spark at fresh events, disregarding flat surround. Honed for nature's battleground, immanent expedience. Guessing probable percents, how an outlay may rebound. Written language multiplies borrowed wisdom won by few. Sharing progress, facts accrue, granting time to improvise. Answer, hitchhikers advise; seven sixes, forty-two. Higher multiverse could be, highest multiverse could not. Only parts have timelines plot, only parts have history. Terminus infinity; bright imaginary spot. Diplomats use structured code, speech and body language rules, careful art and formal tools, sharp negogiating mode, knowing small mistakes corrode, knowing poetry makes fools. Lucky fools are we who meet piquant puzzles unresolved. Chance to practice sk**s evolved, chance to flounder bittersweet. Lucky us to know defeat. Rue the day when all is solved.