im listening to also sprach zarathustra
looking out the window
watching the trees
watching the leaves
watching the wind
thinking on it
i think about the cockroach
just sitting there
on the wall like that
clinging on, i guess
also sprach zarathustra
you know, the intro bit
it's amazing
the soundtrack for existance
i guess
i wonder if the cockroach can feel it
i wonder if the cockroach can hear it
is his tiny little mind blown
just as much as mine is?
that it, that's the ruins of my mental empire
my mind has been blown so many times
on a daily basis
all it takes is
a little attention
a little concentration
a little thought
and everything around you
is insanely beautiful
and insanely impossible
and insanely ridiculous
and insanely absurd
and im the insane one?
most people i know
think that i'm crazy
but they don't know
the half of it
they don't know the genius behind it
the level of truth behind it
am i crazy?
or just honest
open
i don't talk much
because every time i do
i feel like im joking myself
i feel like im not doing the truth justice
words cannot explain this
a night sitting at the bar
drinking
only comes close
but only just
sometimes i do it alone
sitting at a bar
drinking and thinking
and my mind lets loose
and i mean
it really fucking lets loose
im sitting at a bar
but in reality
im drifting in blankets
through an endless
and endlessly beautiful
existance
and somehow
i bore people with thoughts like this
how the fuck can thoughts like this be boring to anyone?
this isn't a theory
this isn't an idea
it's the truth
we're a product of nature
we're an insignificant dot
drifting aimlessly in the soul of infinity
we ignore the sun
we're bored of the moon
we abuse the planet Earth
but we're so happy with ourselves
the human race takes itself so fucking seriously
president of the united states of america?
fuck that
world leaders, religious figures, elvis presley?
the one and only god lies within the existance of existance
the only god we need to listen to
is that little voice that's trying to work it's way around your complex mind
that voice in your head is god
you realise that, don't you?
what's it's saying to you now?
did you have any control over what it was saying?
when i see people pointing fingers,
when i see people on television
i find it cute
look, they're trying to make a difference
look, they think this matters
look, they think it's important
why live in the world, when you can live in your head?
i had that hand written on my bag when i was at university
university - damn you
i had no idea how much it would affect me
potent seeds of psychedelic sarcasm
it's not pretty, and i should care
but im just a man
sitting in a room
with a cockroach
that's clinging to the wall
thinking to him/herself
what the fuck is this vast vertical
smooth surface?!
just as confused as i am
we're all in this together
however, only a select few of us
are in deep
real deep
and there is no escape
it's too late now
it's too late now
it's too late now
this life has nothing on me
my death is my god
my death is my god
my death is my god
my death is my god
my death is my god
my death is my god
my death is my god
my god
