Do you realize we're floating into space?
Do you realize that's hard to make the good things last?
Do you realize that everyone you know will die?
That happyness makes you cry?
That the pain will not go away?
That the past is an illusion, and the future is unknown?
That we're limited brained?
That I don't know how to speake english?
That this is just a cheap copy of a song by The Flaming Lips?
That I should be doing something usefull?
That nobody is going to ready this anyway, so why bother?
That we shouldn't sweat the small stuff, and it's all small stuff?
That that is the title of a self-help book?
That Charles Bukowsky knew it all?
That i'm on the edge of my forties and I don't have enough money, time, hair, skills, energy, luck, health, guts, to go on?
That I'm going to carry on anyway, for that's the only thing to do?
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