Here I am again, with even more words.
But I don't want to say anything. So I will try to write without saying anything. It is very, very difficult.
I'm one of the few writers who understands that there is nothing to say.
Consciousness is a disease. I've said something. Music and maths are so clean, aren't they? I've said something.
Never, never ... mind. I knew I wasn't going to win this battle.
It's like chess, when you think about it. You don't really want to make a move, any move at all - if you're smart.
Wouldn't it be nice to keep all your pieces?
Wouldn't it be nice to keep your soul hidden?
Maths is "cleaner" than music, actually.
You listen to the second movement of Beethoven's Seventh symphony, and you know what the deal is straight away.
Wittgenstein knew. That's why he was whistling the tune on the top of that tank.
I've gone right off Dylan. Beatles were the best songwriters because they put music first.
This will be my demo -
Shady, Dodgy, Shifty
Mighty Soul
Malibu
Stella
Yes, with Mighty Soul pinned to the top of my Twitter.
I've decided to not write any more songs like Nothing or Life and Death. Certain people will say they're my best songs, but they will be wrong.
Or maybe I'm just in one of those moods. Next week, I will be in a different mood and then say something else.
Uh.
Something completely different, knowing my luck.
Listen to me ...
I don't like saying things, but it's like a disease. Does anyone understand?
Bye.
