Them Crazy Circles
Them Crazy Circles
What's it mean, do you suppose,
When aliens start writing grafitti
All over your planet?
Quite suddenly,
In Merrie Olde England, Australia,
The U.S. of A.:
Signs have been appearing,
Massive symbols for Something
- God only knows what -
Pressed into the crop fields,
Like seals driven into wax.
Numbering in the hundreds now,
New ones appear each day.
No one's ever been caught creating one,
No one's ever seen one form.
They simply arrive in the night,
Confounding comprehension in the morn.
So what's goin' on here, I wonder;
Is some Intelligence trying to reach us,
Sadly overestimating our skill
With such puzzles;
Or is some one of God's elder children
Going through some adolescent thing,
Scrawling weird stuff on the backwards planets
For the sheer Hell of watching the natives gape?
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