February 23, 2014

The writer,
The painter,
The recording artist,

struggle to make careers out of communicating,
and while the artist that wants to share
sits to think,
the ones who aren’t connecting at all,
run the world.
money, sales, trades, this and that – small talk,
rules the world…

the underlit side of the moon
told me that: money, it’s a hit
and money
it’s a crime.

It hinted at me the chapters of lives gone:
“Speak to Me” – after you are born
“Breathe” – when you are young
“On the Run” – as you’re growing up
“Time” – for when you’re tired of growing up,
as I am.
“The Great Gig in the Sky” – what gig?
“Money” – I have none.
“Us and Them” – who is us?
“Any Colour You Like” – are we buying something?
“Brain Damage” – you mean like retarded?
There’s someone in my head,
but it’s not me.

We don’t write, paint, or sing
for any ends,
we do these things
to simply connect,
until the end.

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