I said you need to get a grip over yourself. You who are bouncing this way and that, running, spinning down the road along that crisp new green. The world is in vertigo motion, skylights beaming, endless melodies embracing me into a deep slumber. I am lying away happily exhausted, never again seeing. Illusions are better than reality.
Hello and goodbye, no, not this time. We stand modestly, childish and beautiful. Tell me your stories, so I can pick away every crumb of your thought. I want to hear you say what you said, again and again, the same old and I would never get bored. Hold on before I replace these thoughts with useless science and philosophy. "In hac spe vivo (in this hope I live)" says the Prince of Tyre, says me.
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