Wednesday, 18 March 2009

Sir Victor Blank: like a hurricane

You, dear reader, are just a dreamer, and Sir Victor is just a dream. You see, Lloyds, it went out into choppy waters. Now Sir Vic is looking for somewhere safer where the feeling stays. He wants to love you but he's getting blown away.

It's a common problem. We have all - at one time or another - been lost in the hurricanes of the mind. Blowing about. Blown apart. Living an astral life with money no longer meaning a thing. Sir Vic has felt the pain. He has lived the life. Look into his eyes. You can see that he is telling the truth. He wouldn't lie to us.

If you cannot understand this, then let me be the only one covered in the mystic blood of angels. They bleed for me.

If you cannot follow this, then let me be the lonely one burning on the mountain top. A mountain of cash!

If you will not kill your mind for me, then let me be the irrational one who dances for your pleasure, around the campfire, money in flaming eyes.

If you will not burn for me, then let me be the angry one who will cast you out, throw you to the wolves, make you live in the City without a penny to your name.