Yeah, the big £2.9 billion property fund. Investors can't get their money out now. 'Why?!' Ha! Because of Brexit, man. 'Ha!' But there's no need to panic, dear reader(s) ... [drum roll] ... we've got our country back!!! 'Yippee!' / I'm so glad we've got our country back, you know? I used to lie awake at night ... 'Worrying about your music, boss?' No, Voice. 'Oh. Worrying about personal problems, then?' Ha! Christ! No, Voice. Jesus H.! I used to worry that my country was gone somewhere. Disappeared. I used to cry myself to sleep, after lying awake for a while ... I want my country back. Where's my country? 'Ha! What a loser!' Listen. Then I woke up on the 24th June, and ... my country was here again! 'Hallelujah!' I couldn't believe it. My country had come back. I was so happy to have some "sovereignty". 'Yeah, even though you don't own the fucking country. Even though it belongs to the Queen and the aristocracy and the politicians and the oligarchs.' Shut up, you idiot! 'Sorry, Mikey.' Why do you have to tell the truth like that? 'I'm really sorry.' Let me live with my fantasy, man.
'Baa baa baa baa ...'
...
Anything else? You want more? I've already smashed the SQUARE world into little pieces with just one paragraph, and you want more?! 'They're insatiable, boss.'
Well, I don't know. I just don't know. What can I write about now?
NOTHING.
There is nothing, until tomorrow.
That's all I can tell YOU(!).
But you can imagine, in the spaces ...
If you want to ... / More words. Come on. They never stop. More ideas. More situations. Uh. It's so sickening. But I must go on, like Beckett's Unnamable. Yes. Until I can get free. Will I ever be free?
Are you still ... here - ? / You would be better off over there. Away from all the words. Safe in your reality.
Never mind.
Some time has passed.
I'm not complaining, too much.
Laters.
'Baa baa baa baa ...'
...
Anything else? You want more? I've already smashed the SQUARE world into little pieces with just one paragraph, and you want more?! 'They're insatiable, boss.'
Well, I don't know. I just don't know. What can I write about now?
NOTHING.
There is nothing, until tomorrow.
That's all I can tell YOU(!).
But you can imagine, in the spaces ...
If you want to ... / More words. Come on. They never stop. More ideas. More situations. Uh. It's so sickening. But I must go on, like Beckett's Unnamable. Yes. Until I can get free. Will I ever be free?
Are you still ... here - ? / You would be better off over there. Away from all the words. Safe in your reality.
Never mind.
Some time has passed.
I'm not complaining, too much.
Laters.
