Tuesday, December 06, 2005
ok, someone you know is dead. so?
have a drink and stay a while. there's not much better to do. we're making folk songs without a message of hope, or a message at all. i want to see the stars fall out of the sky like electric rain and to run with the screaming crowds toward a non-existent shelter. i want to see their faces, those i never really cared for, those i did, and even more i'd never seen before, knowing we're all going though the same thing. we always have been, but most had their heads in the clouds, until now. now we all see each other exactly the same; fucked.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
we'll sleepwalk through that encounter like we sleepwalk through everything else. there are neat ideas between now and then that will never be realized. so goddamn fucking tired is man.
bang pots and pans. wake everyone up. light candles. be jealous over crumbs. turn around and look at your footprints in the snow. freeze to death in the woods.
let's make a perfect dream and draw it on the back of our hands. we'll turn back to it should we forget how nice it looked.
if it's not enough to remind ourselves of the dreams, faded by routine and repitition, then we will run away. hide from normal, hide from fast. no one will find us, everyone will miss us. and every star we count at night will be another moment lost on the other end of the spectrum.
Post a Comment