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It's a little lame but I still like it |
I slept in the darkness of caves And remember laying thick sheets of Drywall with my hands so that the Walls were acceptable and white but now I can’t really tell the difference, I mean It still looks like the resigned alienation of Objects and terrible consequences I treasure those dreams, in these moments Of summertime opiates to Lemon Drop Burning in the oblivious sun by the lake In awe, sluggishly, of the blossoming trees Cleaning bathrooms for a living Only way to survive in the dark times Now, otherwise, I read about torture and It’s like I have to say something about it as If there were something sane to say Jesus, man, I tell you, when you’re high Nodding beneath a sublime sky, pretty girls In the grass to the west waving in the breeze You know, you can’t sell moments and the Only torture of that life is not being able to take a shit You’re the living dead! I’ve heard assholes say it They maintain that late capitalism is all there is With a straight face even, telling me I’m crazy Words like Bipolar and Schizotypal and substance-abuse dripping with Condescension, the subtext immediately understood (Sensitive, unproductive stranger who also happens To enjoy feeling like a fucking prince). This is Sadness; when all you want is to listen to music and Escape from caves via slow walks down the cavesidewalks But you’ve got to listen to someone tell you to want The ability to buy more things, except more opiates Because the wrong set of terrorists profit. |