And it's so bad, so hopeless, I feel I'm going insane. There's nothing more I can do to convince them.
They'll never go round and round. / Or maybe ...
You can give a dog a bone, but if the dog is dead ...
I'm waiting for time to pass. Fifty years would suit me fine.
They love what they know.
I want to be with my living friends, who aren't even alive. But not dead dogs. No, they are not dead dogs.
One day, I'll look back and be like a stranger to my(old)self, unless ...
Unless I keep going, unless I refuse to become discouraged. My friends know ...
They have seen it. And half the time it doesn't exist. My "they". (R, L, P, D.) I don't mean the squares ("they"s) that will never go round and round, all dizzy and delirious because it's new.
Dead dogs lie still. You can give them bones. Yes, but bones mean nothing to them. They are beyond bones.
I'm waiting for time to pass. I'm waiting for this to become old. When it's old, maybe they'll ...
You can lead a horse to water, and you can drown it. You can scare it first, then you can drown it. You can confuse it - if you like. Then you can watch it drown.
They love what they know. They're afraid the unknown will hurt them. (Will they drown in something new?) It's a shame that what they presently know is worthless.
One hundred years? Oh, by then they'll know what I've given them. And they'll love it.
Of course, that's not what I want. It's no use loving a one-hundred-year-old dead thing. What's the point?
It may even take two hundred years. God forbid! I have no faith. Can I speak to the living, please?
They'll never go round and round. / Or maybe ...
You can give a dog a bone, but if the dog is dead ...
I'm waiting for time to pass. Fifty years would suit me fine.
They love what they know.
I want to be with my living friends, who aren't even alive. But not dead dogs. No, they are not dead dogs.
One day, I'll look back and be like a stranger to my(old)self, unless ...
Unless I keep going, unless I refuse to become discouraged. My friends know ...
They have seen it. And half the time it doesn't exist. My "they". (R, L, P, D.) I don't mean the squares ("they"s) that will never go round and round, all dizzy and delirious because it's new.
Dead dogs lie still. You can give them bones. Yes, but bones mean nothing to them. They are beyond bones.
I'm waiting for time to pass. I'm waiting for this to become old. When it's old, maybe they'll ...
You can lead a horse to water, and you can drown it. You can scare it first, then you can drown it. You can confuse it - if you like. Then you can watch it drown.
They love what they know. They're afraid the unknown will hurt them. (Will they drown in something new?) It's a shame that what they presently know is worthless.
One hundred years? Oh, by then they'll know what I've given them. And they'll love it.
Of course, that's not what I want. It's no use loving a one-hundred-year-old dead thing. What's the point?
It may even take two hundred years. God forbid! I have no faith. Can I speak to the living, please?
