Sunday, August 17, 2014

2.1201 : 8/16/08 : Nothing At All

Nothing at all
The answers aren’t answers
the solutions are bunk
the movements are all standstill
and the treasure is all junk
I can’t believe I’m thinking
wasting moments wasting brain
I might as well pound sand with hammers
sit in the dark and complain
maybe the world is doomed
or only civilization
maybe it will take a hundred years
no bearing on my situation
maybe I’m just here fiddling
in a deck chair on my own Titanic
I am a speck of dust
and all these problems are gigantic

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