They sit in their offices,
Closing the door,
They stare at the ceiling,
And then at the floor,
Then vaguely they wonder,
How nice it would be,
If they were like Newton,
Or Marie Curie,
I think it is strange,
That the world's explanations,
They twist and they form,
To non-linear equations,
They're writing their papers,
And their careful diction,
Is drawing its weapons,
And murdering fiction,
And when they are looking,
At stars in the night,
So smugly they're saying,
"They're gas and not light!"
Although for most scientists,
Strange it must seem,
I prefer not to know,
But to guess and to dream |
Submission Name: Scientists
