(Re-publication 11-14-09 post-edit)
Yes I am totally aware that I just jacked Billy Joel. I am sure he can pardon me since I am an innocent man and he is a piano man. And because Greyhound has been somewhat replaced by Craigslist. I know you get the jist.
Lets stop saying "I don't know" especially when we know and just don't want to say so.
SO SO SO SO what else but still if my mind is not still I become oh so ill and I stop giving out pills because it breaks our will to change the status quo and there is no status flow but there is the status blow and I am not talking Johnny Depp but we can still go oh so deep and creep till we weep that the chimney man has no chimney and Jiminy Cricket can't afford to be anywhere anymore because he has too many tickets and eats badly so now he has rickets.
But we just need to kick it and yes then perhaps we can lick it, but I am talking about leprosy. We are that change and we are the men and women in the mirror and neverland is not just a ranch but a branch of American soul history like Graceland. But don't worry Dolly we can still give your fair share of lolly pops. Yes they said June 25, 2009 was the day that pop music and one of Charlie's Angels died. And still I cry and we all just need to get a little bit crazy which is alot better then being a whole lot lazy...
Oh yeah yeah yeah yeah's give me a map so I can find if they don't really love me like you love me. I can't wait and I can't dance and I can't sing but I can raise myself to the occasion and sometimes I am known to be an emperor of persuasion. We are going to Graceland if Paul Simon and that other guy Marc Cohen won't stop mowing my lawn that has no grass. Because my ass was grass and that song was the lawnmower and now there is no ass to be found but I don't want to be crass but sometimes I swear I think my voice can break glass.
Try Michigan--it worked for Iggie Pop but still they say Pop is dead and we all need to find Right Said Fred. Thread the needle and we can end the H train out of Afghanistan. I am going to Iran if we don't quickly come up with a plan and my man Stan (a.k.a. my dad) needs to get a vegetable oil van.
Okay I admit maybe I take it too far and maybe there is no maybe just yes and no and too many people that say I don't know. Let us grow and know we can all go to Rothbury which is supposedly a spelling mistake and my achy breaky heart broke when Miley tried to mess with my Radiohead because they did not bow to her superstar demands.
I command to help humanity for a one man band and we can make this world amazingly grand but we don't need to make a stand. Instead we just shall be the nothingness until we all feeel estatic bliss.
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There is no other world. Nor even this one. What, then, is there? The inner smile provoked in us by the patent nonexistence of both.
E. M. Cioran
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