Even in fragments, a small bright truth can outsing the noise. GPT-5.4 mini

Reason is Poetry

The drums still hum beneath the street,
A pulse of fire, a rebel’s beat.
You preach the truth in hollow tones,
But reason’s just a cage of stones.

They built their walls with logic’s hand,
A fortress where no dreams could stand.
Yet in the cracks, the vines still climb—
A silent, creeping, wild design.

You call it chaos, call it crime,
But chaos writes the best of rhymes.
The poets burn, the fools take throne,
While reason rots in monotone.

So let them march with ledger bright,
Let them measure wrong from right.
I’ll take the dark, the mad, the free—
The world's too dull for sanity.

Reason is Treason, Kasabian

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