Hunger for what's not there, eyeless congregationnBlessed be unto for their hearts are truenSubmitting to the stimuli, a pure psychic secretionnFor their souls are emptynBleeding out the will of humanitynnCan you hear the tolling of the bell?nThe masses salivatennNeurons fire with desire to quench intangible needsnSupplant the seed, learn the machinenWhen two entities commonly occur close togethernThe appearance of one shall forever bring to mind the othernnCan you hear the tolling of the bell?nInfecting the inanennDon't become a mere recorder of facts, but try to penetrate the mystery of their origin. Perfect as the wing of a bird might be, it will never enable the bird to fly if unsupported by the air. Facts are the air of science. Without them a man of science can never rise ~Ivan Pavlov~nnPinpoint your soulnI'll swallow itnWhat will be left behindnNothing but a body coldnnPinpoint your fearsnI'll wallow in themnWhat is now left behindnNothing but a body coldnnCan you hear the tolling of the bell?nThe masses salivatenCan you hear the tolling of the bell?nInfecting the inane