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It's impossible to trace |
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these words in carbon paper trail |
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for just as Zeno's arrow flies the snake is eating its tail. |
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And in contradictory style |
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the soldier and the steer attend |
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around the mark of the five hundred all in charge of a friend. |
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"The Cretans always lie" |
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claims the Cretan. |
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The Cretans always lie. |
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A kiss the gift from hell |
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light, the poison pillow, dear... |
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and as we gag on it translation smacks of something like |
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"Cretans always lie" |
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claims the Cretan; |
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"Of Cretan stock am I, |
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am I Cretan?" |
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Why don't we hook this old short circuit to the value of Pi? |
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"Cretans always lie" |
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claims the Cretan; |
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"Of Cretan stock am I, |
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(so) am I Cretan?" |
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And Zeno's arrow flies, |
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through the ether. |
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Come on... |
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let's see how the paradox flies. |