The bull moose in rutting season knows not what he does;
A thousand pounds of raw power, pointless without direction.
The unfocused beam of the brightest light is outdone
By a mere candle and a parabola, just ask the sun.
Despite my best efforts not to, I've learned that
Rage is draining, and there'll be no more giving myself away.
So come revel with me in the power of intertwined hearts,
For lives lived in stereo are more than the sum of their parts.
