The brain within its groove The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, T'were easier for you To put the water back When floods have slit the hills, And scooped a turnpike for themselves, And blotted out the mills! Emily Dickinson, The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson insanitymind
Dark satanic mills And did the Countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills? Dark satanic steelStepping out of the firehose industry