I give it up
hanging it up on the hook,
on my tounge.

I smoke silverish things
from a golden bong,
and eat rice crackers,
waiting for death
sitting in cabs
and driving all night through town
to find nothing but a not existing reason
to exist.

so we consist, they say.
There is no sence,
and there never was.
I pause in a fall back position,
it’s called the all black mission…

Yeah.

and my visions are clear but loose
and i snooze and frown a bit
with a crown on my eye lid
good bye, syd, i say,
good bye.

it has at least been a premium high,
a genius waiting in the sky
for us with a big brown book
throwing energy,
blowing,
they say.

But do we really wonder?
Do we care?
Do you dare?

when the snare’s tight
i’ll be hanging there
in the misty night.

I kill my time all the time
untill it’s darker than black
and I cast my pearls before swine
with the sap in the sack.