It's nearly over. The global elite are hanging on. They think fascism is the answer. But it's only a temporary fix.
[Should I be looking for a nice cave? No, not yet.]
I feel sorry for all the people who have been fooled. The problem? No one is educated these days. Unless you can educate yourself, and then think for yourself, you're always going to be the butt of reality's joke. And if you're humiliated, the global elite will expect you to like your humiliation, even love it.
And knowing you ...
Who knows you?
God does. The cosmic power force does. Whatever.
Realistically, we probably have twenty years to go. Which is fine, for me. No need for a cave just yet. I can still be a rock and roll star in that time. For my own entertainment, you understand. Although I won't object to others being entertained.
...
I've got a migraine. The world seems a much more serious place when you're ill. You don't want to smile or laugh. Oh, I'm sure I'll be okay by tonight.
One day, we will get really ill. All of us! But you won't see me in no fucking hospital, man. Like Carlito Brigante, I'll be on a beautiful beach.
I wrote a new tune yesterday. I reckon it will be my sixth world-beater. The lyric might be a bit tricky though.
Six is close to ten. And I won't even stop at ten.
Nothing else makes sense to me.
There is no one like me.
I felt a bit sick, with the migraine, like. I'm past that now.
I'm having pizza tonight, actually. That might cheer me up. Pizza and Anadin Extra. And a Magnum ice cream, too!
...
St Ives or Malibu? Christ! Don't make me choose.
Listen! St Ives, if I'm a songwriter. Malibu, if I'm a rock star. 'You're going to be a rock star, Mikey!' Ha! Well ... so it is written, so it shall be done.
I'm going to buy a massive fuck-off house right on the beach! I'm going to join the global elite! If you can't beat them ...
You dig?
...
By the way, this is my last personal post. And no more music neither. I mean it. Just dull, dull finance from now on. Read it until you love it, kook(s)! Why should I be the only one who suffers?
Obviously, I'll continue with the conceptuals. Maybe they will become more obscure. No one will know what the fuck I'm talking about. 'No one knows now, boss.' Thank you, Voice. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
Okay, okay. I'm going to listen to The Velvet Underground. The three most powerful songs from the first album. The invention of alternative rock!
I'm Waiting For The Man
Venus In Furs
Heroin
Laters.
[Should I be looking for a nice cave? No, not yet.]
I feel sorry for all the people who have been fooled. The problem? No one is educated these days. Unless you can educate yourself, and then think for yourself, you're always going to be the butt of reality's joke. And if you're humiliated, the global elite will expect you to like your humiliation, even love it.
And knowing you ...
Who knows you?
God does. The cosmic power force does. Whatever.
Realistically, we probably have twenty years to go. Which is fine, for me. No need for a cave just yet. I can still be a rock and roll star in that time. For my own entertainment, you understand. Although I won't object to others being entertained.
...
I've got a migraine. The world seems a much more serious place when you're ill. You don't want to smile or laugh. Oh, I'm sure I'll be okay by tonight.
One day, we will get really ill. All of us! But you won't see me in no fucking hospital, man. Like Carlito Brigante, I'll be on a beautiful beach.
I wrote a new tune yesterday. I reckon it will be my sixth world-beater. The lyric might be a bit tricky though.
Six is close to ten. And I won't even stop at ten.
Nothing else makes sense to me.
There is no one like me.
I felt a bit sick, with the migraine, like. I'm past that now.
I'm having pizza tonight, actually. That might cheer me up. Pizza and Anadin Extra. And a Magnum ice cream, too!
...
St Ives or Malibu? Christ! Don't make me choose.
Listen! St Ives, if I'm a songwriter. Malibu, if I'm a rock star. 'You're going to be a rock star, Mikey!' Ha! Well ... so it is written, so it shall be done.
I'm going to buy a massive fuck-off house right on the beach! I'm going to join the global elite! If you can't beat them ...
You dig?
...
By the way, this is my last personal post. And no more music neither. I mean it. Just dull, dull finance from now on. Read it until you love it, kook(s)! Why should I be the only one who suffers?
Obviously, I'll continue with the conceptuals. Maybe they will become more obscure. No one will know what the fuck I'm talking about. 'No one knows now, boss.' Thank you, Voice. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.
Okay, okay. I'm going to listen to The Velvet Underground. The three most powerful songs from the first album. The invention of alternative rock!
I'm Waiting For The Man
Venus In Furs
Heroin
Laters.
