Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
One can come to be complacent from dispatching bottled messages.
We human beings are said to distinguish ourselves from other animals; do individual human beings ever likewise distinguish themselves from individual other animals?
'Do You Know How to Waltz?' is the sound of a prolonged wait: a wait which is being prolonged by those who are waiting. They're waiting for the end, which they know is coming; the drone takes the form it does so that you can hear, and feel, it coming: so that you know that, and when, the end is coming, without this knowledge preventing you from feeling as if it could be forestalled indefinitely.
'… people incapable of reading a diagram posing as engineers.'
'The melancholy science from which I make this offering to my friend relates to a region that from time immemorial was regarded as the true field of philosophy, but which, since the latter's conversion into method, has lapsed into intellectual neglect, sententious whimsy and finally oblivion: the teaching of the good life. What the philosophers once knew as life has become the sphere of private existence and now of mere consumption, dragged along as an appendage of the process of material production, without autonomy or substance of its own. He who wishes to know the truth about life in its immediacy must scrutinize its estranged form, the objective powers that determine individual existence even in its most hidden recesses.'
'joy to those / who'd use their songs / as clues to find their clan / but woe to those / who'd use them to / enslave their fellow man / or their fellow woman'