PureVolume

all the stupid things

All the stupid things that don’t matter Is that drawing for me? I’ll keep it forever. Is that what you want? Will you sing for me as well? Ramblings of an old man. Old man, you tell such good stories. Where did your memory go? Did they depart with your lady? I bet they did, but I won’t say so. This music goes great with life, except… it makes life seem so much more important... as if every step that a single person took was a journey that meant saving another’s life. Is it true? Is it true then? Or music, do you lie to me? Do you paint a false picture for my mind’s eye while you slip into mine ear? My eyes see the ordinary. Is it all extraordinary as well? Have you raised the lifeless up to dance with me, waving about my toes? I wish it were true, why alone… I cannot hear anything. Where is the voice of God, I wonder. It is almost here when you fill my soul with these lying images. He then recedes into the potential of my own mind when you aren’t there for me. I want to pull him from his seat. Make him dance with me alone, I don’t need your aid. Wait a minute that’s not right. Not right at all, I feel him all the time. Everywhere… perhaps it is my ability to feel… in conjunction with everyone else’s feelings… and belief? Everywhere, all the time… everywhere all the time… everywhere all the time… all the time. Not everywhere? Not all the time? Then when? And where? And… how? I don’t give a damn how. I just want to dance. I don’t want to dance alone. I want to be hidden in the middle where no one notices you. Where there is no space between me and the next person. There is no difference between me and the next person. There is no boundary. There is no difference. There is a difference. There is a uniting string. Isn’t there? Can’t you feel it? I’m tugging on my end. Can’t you feel it at yours? All these stupid things… Clouds. How fucking beautiful and graceful. How stupid. Is God there? No, I’ve seen the clouds disappear, I did not see him. I even flew in a machine that took me to the clouds… I did not see him. Maybe I can’t feel anymore. I trust my eyes too much. As if everything where beautiful… Well. Isn’t it? I have not truly seen ugly. I have not truly felt it’s terrifying death-grip. I have been pricked. I have bled. I have not felt true hell. I have felt misery, I have fallen into a lonely entanglement. I am never alone.

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