You May Not Want To Stop
So tell me. Where’ve you been? Seems like i’ve been singing hollow songs forever, they bounce back and forth inside the emptiness.
Tiny traveller how far have you gone? Does each mile make you stronger? Or weigh you down that little bit more.
Alone? I don’t mind it.
Pain? Its a constant, but it fades.
Happy? Why yes i hope so.
Multiple equations, dotted around the stars.. I never really enjoyed maths, too repetitive. And when i couldn’t figure out the answers, i’d just take a peek at them in the back of the textbook. But life’s not like that is it?
Well, not anymore.
Answers, answers, answers. Who decides which ones are right? The textbooks were proven to be wrong on occasion, so what hope do we have then? Marking ourselves from faulty textbooks only proves ignorance is bliss..
Vero o falso??
Fuck fuck fuck. Multiple readings, equally correct, or are we just persistently blaming it on ambivalence?
Sorry, i got side-tracked. I do that a lot these days, for various reasons.
London, Brighton, Amsterdam, Hilversum, Hamburg, Berlin, Venice, Florence, Siena, Rome, Agerola, Sorrento, Barcelona, Malaga, Granada, Madrid, Auriol, Paris, Bruges..
Lost and found, scattered, broken, hidden, blatantly pronounced.. travelling works both ways. You lose something only to find a new something.
Get lost, walk in the dark.. how else will you appreciate the light? Only don’t go walking for too long..
Why?
Because you may not want to stop.
