We`ll All Never Know



1. one

We`ll All Never Know   or What All`ll Never Know.  ( W.A.N.K)

The integrity of the questioner Is the real deal here…am I with the wise?  Or other…How well arguments are always put, even Blackness will be talked-up to mean White…

I`m wise, (why, why, why)`s.  See the foolish frolic, such irresponsibility is divine, (an irresponsible GOD ???  Whatever next… a well planned Devil?)  How incredible GOD is.  Unbelievable! But what are you reasoning… seems wholly credible, gosh! If I were but brave enough to, then I would, but small apprehensions pass my way, and if it was really right I`d have no hesitation would I.  But why would I want that. 

  You poisoned me with your own band, and the vampires feed…   It`s good to help, but I`m feeling tired now.  (Another day of unanswered questions).

I awoke feeling refreshed, and I cleansed my mind from the dirty blackness of death and dreams…was I to help “Them” today, or try to concentrate on me-O-my selfish spirit.  (If I better myself…then I can better help them who wouldn’t help me…or become so apart from the group, in the kingdom of the blind where the one-eyed man is a liar.  Without general consensus, truth is lies.  I think of Galileo, a Gallio he.  Who?  …exactly, {GALLIO- a person who keeps him(or her)self to themselves, and free from trouble and responsibility}.

  With such strong opinions now, lies have become truth.  Tell a pack of lies and win the deal, and who will ever know.  Go to sleep on the blackbird of burden, and he`ll take you away to places now seen for the first time, but you won`t remember, it is like that down there, nothing Styx.

  I still couldn’t decide what it is that I should be doing…they`d already mapped-out the genome project, gone to the moon, and learnt to live in peace and harmony-well almost if you negate the wars, disease, arguments, pain, suffering, hunger, hatred(I`ve a red hat!), poverty, divorce, perfidy, intoxicants, fear, six types of pestilence, purdah, paedophiles, politics,problems(including mathematical ones), nastiness, noise, litter, acne, evil and not very nice things.  Apart from that…it is all going perfectly to plan.  What a waste of all we are.

  The Answers are numerous to the question… which one woukd you like to hear?  Only one will do for you, for you require “Yes”.

  I`m not so sure, for one and one is half times four too! So I didn’t get that job, I sick-up of that sycophantic system.  If only I had agreed, and sated my greed.

Love-           I met a girl that sang the news           And I asked her for some happy views,           But she just cried and came to stay,           I went down to her brother-in-law           Where I heard the Headlines years before           Singing die, die this is making me cry           Love my heavy weather and my overcast sky           Those good old rules are looking wispy and dry           Singing this will be the day that I cry            This will be the day that I cried.

Jesus cried, and Jesus spake-”You have sinned against the Lord!  I am your Master”.  but we just smiled and turned-away, then got on with our own day.  Daze of the weak, blinded by the light, deafened by the sound of a conceiving universe, no wonder we are confused.  In the Kingdom of the Blind, how on earth could you believe in the one that sees…he cannot prove it!  `Tis a miracle we need…Sainthood for all…Beautiful….. And that`s about it for love.

Mathematics.  The aim of this seems tin be to numerate everything, something like a National Insurance  number without the letter of the alphabet.  Calling everything as or by a number has some sort of coldness to it.  Without feeling…number and number, then the pain goes away.  So that`s my trouble with maths, no feelings, although I do find trigonometry intriguing…

One mans meat is another mans poison, or not. I met a man that sang of shoes, And I asked him for some cheese, He just sang that all he do`s Is walk around in these…

  I didn’t know what to say… so I sang! Bye, bye I`ll miss you, so die, Love my telly it`s got every But not every programme that is on sky. Good old producers thinking busy and high Singing this will be the day that we lie.   And how bloody interesting IT was.

What`s in it for me?   Altruistically, philopanthropically, spiritually, physically, mentally and other allies all I redeem will be a bit like awaiting for ones birthday presents.  (We do still celebrate birthdays I believe, although judging from the postman`s response, I am not too sure).  Imagine the surprise…or disappointment.  If we are to gamble on our present, love and war and timing.


  Is time real?  Once upon a time it wasn’t like it is now.  Then again, it is not going to be the same as it is now.  I did not like you when we first met.  Now we are inseparable.  Then we hated each other.  Oh the gamut of ones puppy shitting on the carpet, and the sweet reciprocation of its love.   As it is abstract, I suppose it doesn’t matter how I feel about any of this.  I just wished that I felt more, it happened, complete empathy! And now I am full of hate.  I joined a religion and felt at home, moved in but got evicted for not singing off the same hymn sheet.  How I loved putting all those dirty words into the lyric.  Silent Night became my most depraved wor.k.  I will not tell you this, but there was hardly a single word that was not “offensive”. This time, my timing was perfect.   I met a girl that thought the same   And I asked her for her happy name…   Then she did smile and said-”I`m Ena”,   I went around where she had been before   Where I heard she was the local whore   But the boys there said that Ena took no pay.   And in the streets the credits ring   The loved-out cried, the poets drink…   But not a word was spoken,   Their thresholds had been broken.   And the three men I admire most-   Nixon, Archer and Banquo`s ghost   Have indeed both won and lost   Today`s the day the people`s dead.   And they were singing…

Silence!  I thought I heard somebody calling my name…To summon-up a devil…shouldn’t one be bless`d.  How else to stop the mire sticking.  So with my own divinity…I jumped on in there.  But the only ones who noticed me were the ones whose names I were calling.  B.L.Z.Bubb was dancing with Lucy Ferno…as my boogieman rattled-out some wild honky-tonk piano.  It was so crazy man!   And then a crazy man, Full Moon Philip, decided to join the dance.  All chaos ensued and the snake ate the devil`s tail, making Satan now indistinguishable from all men.  But poor old Nick just couldn’t find his niche, somehow common men were well just too common for him.  Oh benighted soul needing worser hells to justify modern evil.  Where is it that one can be happy?  Anywhere!  Where is it that two can be happy?  Nowhere.  Betwixt and between, neither happy, nor sad, I ponder my mood…the cows have spoken of wheels and will, and shouldn’t I be listening to my peers instead of farmsteads and cow-shit.  My ears hear these peers talking of their blackest jetties appearing as piers, and I am thinking …you are not his and I am not this.


Truth`s Inside This Sometimes (T.I.T.S)

And we learned, and we lost. So when The Devilnis informed of good and kindly acts, this makes Him ANGRY!!!!  When He is angry, He is horrid.  So all of you that are doing good things, having good thoughts, and generally living good wholesome lives, well this justly makes Him retaliate.  Try pulling The Devil towards yourself, and He will flee to another.  The most corruptible will always be the ones of great influence.  How I pity them all…ensuring their ever continuing torment.   So if good acts create vile scenes, then what of evil acts?  Most evil deeds, done in un-typical fashion, tend to make the perpetrator of such evil repentant.  Are we not all sinners?  And their lives are thrown-away, leaving them a generally spiritual reality.  We are making them into Saints, them Sinners, and we are making our Saints into Sinners- for the wars fought for religious names.  I prefer domestic disputes, but I will get to sex and money later…maybe.   Cancer was the answer! Did it come as some surprise to you?  So close indeed the disco dancer, what is it we should do about it?

  Imagine no John Lennon,   It`s easy `less you try,   No Yoko Ono, Above all, I bellowed! And the sop-head started to cry.  I would have shot him myself if I`d had been there at that time…tooled-up like you`d have to be.  Tis better than to slowly die, being beaten, flailed and skinned by pretty smelling flowers.    And so say all of us, and so asy all of us, for he`s a jolly good target for some personal attention.  I wanted to be recognised once, I even tried my damnedest to accurately look like everyone else as standardised homogenisation is the trend at this moment.  A lass turned-up and ruined any hopes I ever had of being a normal, and now I am just some common freak.  How inseparable the snow-flakes and the grains of sand have thus become.  I can`t tell, as an audience is needed for such an imposition, so I will shut-up, shut-away, and deny it all.   Satan wouldn’t play with me, when I asked Him for some time, time and again…   He left for me this message: I am seeking-out a saint that I can test and taunt.  I am going up to Heaven to find out what`s the point…of this and that of us and them of you and me…but then again…Then, forward He came.  He said that the only person in Heaven is Jesus an He was feeling a wee bit lonesome and was delighted to have the present company.  Well, that is the last thing that I wanted, to cheer Him up.  So I`m pissed-off and feeling Evil.  There will be hell to npay for this, He`ll pay…I`ve got something that you all would like, love, die for it.  How can I keep it a secret?  I mustn`t let them know, but they are surely going to find it out.  A slip of my guard, and my tongue will betray me, just as my brother did before, bother!  They can peer into my mind, they cannot spell my words, and we are nothing like each other, and nothing(no-think) likes me…yet.

  Selling Souls ain`t easy, it requires great guile `n bile, it`s vile the things these souls do burden themselves so with.  Wit and witless, with and without, what hat will do that?  Blue berets or blueberries, it is all the same to me.  Red blood(there are other colours of blood, transparent being my own personal favourite), throbs around, sounding a pounding that deafens divinity.  “Will you please stop beating that drum when I am on the phone!”.  Who`s ya callin`?  “GOD”.  As the heart stopped, the message became clear… BE WITH ME< BE WITH ME< BE WITH ME, etc, etc.  I reckon it was Jesus, poor lonely odd-ball He.  Meanwhile, in Heaven, Jesus was making a phone call, and it was to The Devil Himself, and Jesus thanked Him for his much enlightening visit.  Satan was, as we now know, busy.  His answer phone message was simply-keep ringing…   And in the church the people think The poets sigh and the Masons glean, But not a word was spoken The priest he had forgotten The three men I admire most- Jesus, Einstein and Jonathon Ross They can`t fork-up quite the cost Today the people died. And they were singing… Bye-bye, miss my life since I died Love a body to just sod me Till my juices run dry, Them good old boys a-fucking His hole and mine Thinking this is really making me high                This is really making me high.


Below Under Me  (B.U.M)

Having never recovered from anything I`ve done, the pain goes on.  Some call it experience, I call it Hell.  Pains to cleanse the soul, oh hurt me some more…   “That`ll teach ya”, spoke the torturer, as he broke another promise.   Lucky for me that my tutors had taught me to be tense. I was certainly stretched to my limits, philosophy not being one of my specialised subjects, it was far too abstract and contradictory .  I tried to focus on something real…and found my pain, real sensations coursing through my already congested system.  I love it.  Therefore, does it still hurt me, or not?

  I met a girl that rang a bell And I asked of her - where do you dwell? Then she just snarled and shouted “Hell”. Then I went down to the bottom floor I`d taken the elevator there before And the men there said the bill was still to pay… Then in the street The Devil appeared, I went up to Him and pulled His beard, But not a hair was broken, It all seemed so forsaken. And the three men I admire most, Pol Pot, Hitler and the Pope They`d caught repentance, all Hell lost The day the the sickness died.

It was all too familiar, death, much like life with the exception of freedom.  No freedom for the living, Oh happy release.  Realise this, you`re not really here at all, you are somewhere deep with-in-side yourself alone.  If you knew how big the smallest atom was, it is vast!  All known matter could be assembled in a single electron.  They don`t know this yet, but if they did they`d make us pay for it.  So imagine that John Lennon was easily to die, no cancer lurking, no disgusting bile.  Imagine all the people living all as one…

And God said to Lennon…WELL YOU DIDST LIKETH GETTING SHOT DIDNTST THEE!  (I wish that God didn’t talk in capitals all the time.  He tends to Shout! And shout a lot too.  Maybe He is going slightly deaf).   Devils whisper such sweet seductive words, fancy a sweet deal today my lovely?  I couldn’t believe he lied to me, so I did not make The Deal.   With a heavy heart, I weighed-up my options…the sum of which equals either bone or zero.  The ambi-ness of nothing,  i.e. Nothing works better, so why buy the latest cleaning gimmick, because nothing works better,  Can there ever be nothing, living in a plenum-full vacuum less infinity.  And because of infinity…All will ever be, all will be all.  I will be you and you I for an infinite amount of endless time forever, and all other things an infinite amount of time for times times time.  What bad memories we have, and that`s the rub.  “Fancy a rub?”  I was arrested for that!.  I remember being you, I bet you`d like to know all about it…It`s not the- the effort of recollection for such a trite little memory as you, I would much rather talk of me.

Old sweaty Satan sat and swore at God.  God wasn’t listening, there are rumours that He is dead, but surely that`d make me dead too.   But how would I know of such a thing, me being just a man…   Many false prophets profess of knowledge, I suppose they`ve done something good in their respective pasts.  When I am them again, I`ll be a hit more aloof, and will refuse the seductions of good deeds equal good karma. “Can I borrow the car Ma?”…If you`vwe beeen goo you can… I tried to find my ruler, here you are, I am sure of this:- If you are Number One, then you`ll think you`re the only One except on the oblique adjacent, and that is Number Two.  Number Two thinks he is the better number because he has two neighbours(Incidentally, I absolutely hate my neighbours…), one being One, the other one Three, he feels supreme, for without himself to go with one there`d be no Three.  Three thinks he`s  the sum of both one and two, and assumes the qualities of them both.  Three lies the fact that unlike his neighbours, he actually looks most of what he is.  Four is an odd number, it`s a third of the rule, incorporates the crucifix and is only before one for two-thirds of the time.  Five is an unhappy number, it is the number of man.  Senses, fingers, and the amount of offspring summer, autumn and wintery produce.  People are best in fives, trust me…and another tail-less devil adds-up his prophets.  Six likes being six.  Central to the core, won`t talk to five, thinks its inferior, and gets all them good vibrations from luck number seven which is the magic number.  1+2+4=7.  Three squares combined, these are the rules for mixing the three types of fire to create water.  I digress,  seven oceans, seven continents, worlds, chakras.  (It is odd that it`s s(even) when this seems at odds!   Eight is loathsome, infinity in its wrong aspect.  I hate eight, it is so snake eating tail, it is so where do I begin to construct such an outlandish character.  They rarely meet the beginning and ends.  I get dizzy because of eights.  Nine thinks it is enlightened, and believes there are nine days to the week, obviously a superior number nine, and oft confused with six, enough of nine.  Ten is the king, another number of man, for in tens we form our sporting posses, hunting parties and political incidents.  As long as you can get Ten on your side, you will be winning.  Ten is really the first number, so it should either start or be central to my rule.  Eleven is another odd number, with even inside. Gosh, mit is all so confusing…Sodd?  Elodd?  I got arrested for that, but luckily I was not thrown in gaol, but bound over, down and around.  I ought to have shouted 7-11!  Things like that always happen, and when you think of the wittiest riposte but after the fact, it is a fact-up again!  Eleven is equal every way, especially sideways.  We tend to pair-up in couples because of the number eleven.  It is both hell/heaven.  You and I(which latter-day is called me and you).  Twelve is Omega!(unless your ruler is longer, like a yard for instance).  Hold-on…I`ve been measuring in oldy-worldy imperial, we are now in continentally (I am not pissing around)metric.  Thirty, and I only researched twelve which is weak okay, so let us forget all about my number theory, I am out of date…the time is running late…and I`m about to change my ruler…and that is how Lucifer`s troubles began to pass, Lucky Bastard!  You should have seen the Father…(fat her, made her fat, I fat her.  Dirty old Bastard! Said the “F” word in the presence of an innocent.  “Fucking when pregnant can seriously damage your baby”, then it went to school and really got fucked-up with mind-wiping ideology, be a tax payer for tax is robbery.  It takes most of the poor to give to the already well-off, I`m off.  Taxed on wages, shopping, housing, health, utilities, can`t you see that you are being ripped-off trebly?  Why do we need representatives to tell us that we cannot do it when we bloody-well know we can.  It comes down to the support of ones community.  So Grannie X, (no relation to Malcolm, even though she did spawn a son and called him Malcolm as he generally had bad hair, for there is a lot in ones name, especially if one is  called CharLOTte!) and how the kids ragged him so,  so Grannie X who paid tax for a lifetime and with  Insurance expenses through her life, if only this was put into her own private account she coulkd almost afford to be completely bionic, but she needs a hip operation, too late for she did not smoke pot in the 60`s man. O how hip, and doctor ten grand a week says NO, NO, NO!  The community ought to go and beat the shit outta him because they will soon be in a similar position themselves.  Why are we so apathetic?  We all know what is right, we all know what is wrong, so why are we being treated like this, no treatment.  Are we not better than what they think of us?  They think we are shit.  You try asking one of them for a favour, and prove my point.  A whole empire was based on opium, so where is it now?  She had lovely nipples. That French girl I loved for five days, maybe that explains whay I am smokins a packet of cigarettes a day, those lovely brown filters are just like the memory of my imagination.  Magic spell me with a curse O curs`d one. I do not like apostrophe! Last xmas I gave my postman, Ted, a trophy, but he wasted it.  How was Ted? Wasted!  Insteadf it`s a catastrophy for some feline stole his trophy, such gratitude.  Remember the time when you were let down at the tennis match?  Remember?  All of your friends committed suicide there because you refused to hear them calling to you for help, and now you feel that you have the right to give me flowers, get on your bike mate, for the final time…and when you find it, it will be in the last place that you looked.  Nope, I`m not going to make this easy for you, I am only a postman after all.  Unite my community then free us from solitary confinement, or make a call so we can share a cell for we wish to be everywhere with every building and house open to all at all of the times.  Why steal or abuse for you are only stealing and abusing yourselves, and when Grannie X, as aforementioned, needs it bad, we`ll aqll know and support her.  One big extended family, and if, just if one was to abuse our system, we will fully endorse the strictest of punishments and it`ll help to get rid of those we despise for we can collectively tell whopper lies.  We`ll do really vile acts upon their fragile minds and bodies, that`ll teach `em, but within a legal structure.  Need to change the law, too many flaws, too many floors.  Keep it simple stupid, how else are we to learn… Code-breaker, law breaker, breaker of the spirit, lend me a fiver, that`s a million euro if they have converted the perverted, or are you also broke?   Impecunity,  what great works of art are manifested when th creator has nothing but his art.  If I were rich I`d be down the pub on the pull, and then I`d be going on to some suave and sophisticated club, where the music is SO loud it will be impossible to converse, making my chances of a sexual favour for later a greater possibility.  Picture this:  “Fancy talking about the universe baby…come up to mine…I know who Heisenburger was!  And I have met Satan…” did I really need her to suck me dry?   Come sup with me from my loving-cup, and all will be…well…beautiful.  I promise.  All promises are always broken, all secrets get secreted.  All hope is lost.  Forever.  Therefore, try this:  Hope less, trust no one, confide in no one.

I met a ghost that sang like Lennon And I asked him for his reason dying But he just fell down on the ground I went up to the Cavern club Where I heard he`d done lots of stuff But the man there said the music never played It`s called respect, so we don’t sing, There`s no more love, and all poetry`s shit So never a word be spoken Our hearts have all been broken. And the three men I admire most Paisley, Adams and Marcel Proust They`ve had enough of |Lennon`s ghost The day the music died was the day that I was accidentally pre-occupied by something as trivial as feeding myself.  I needed to eat just to stay calm, you wouldn’t like me when I`m angry, as devils do do nasty things.  I said - don`t fuck with me, and I ain`t had a shag since.  Maybe words are magic.  Smoking kills reinforces the idea, and you`ll find that even more are dying because of suggestion.  May I suggest to you to not read these things that bring you down.  You are mightily impressionable, all of you.  That reminds me of when I mimicked you and you loved it.  That mirror I gave you for your birthday, how well it reflected your whole personality.  But your face cracked, and you now look like a prune, or a cold testicle.  It is all that gunk that you`ve been coating yourself in for all of your years, so what did you expect…that it would do what it says on the label?   Although they have really excellent TV campaigns, music-less obviously, I could not see why she had to be like that, she did it in private, not to her privates, but to her face - the bit we all have to see, it is her way of getting her revenge on a world that doesn’t care for Grannie X`s hip.  I`d veil `em up when they get like that, it is a crime against all of us beautiful people.  Fat people are gross.  I`d feed them all to the starving acid vats and use their bones in  the road re-building schemes planned for our inner cities.  Ever tried to rush in the rush-hour, far too many fat-farty people in cars on roads not wide or long enough.  I`d like to build a motorway to the moon and have some place new to go.  It`s a bit boring being on Earth all the time, as you all know.  Let`s put an idiot-savant in charge, he`ll make spaghetti junction look like lasagne!  Super-wide vehicles going backwards and sideways, inspired by the M25, M16s were being traced by MI5, they looked like crayons and pencils,  rubbers and playtime.  Meanwhile, serious crimes were going down and I seemed to be involved in them all.  I asometimes wonder if I`m to blame for all of this, but wearing my God-Head does not suit me, it`s far too white and luminous for the rest of me.  Back to the black, and then I know that my visions are false.  Silly cons, tempting me.  I will not renounce my focus…Oh focus you voluptuous temptress,  tigers are roaring at the moon.  It`s madness you know, they think the moon is the sun.  I knew a madman who thought he was better than he was, he failed to be himself.  Oh well, better luck next time.  If at first you don`t succeed, give up. 

If I were you,(which I am)? I`d be more like me,(which I`m not).  You see, I`m not feeling myself…What have you given up, touching yourself?  I t is my common factor with the others who will not touch me either.  Handshake`s are easier now, for when I was wassing away I felt partially homo in doing so, and who wants to be a wanker anyway, I`d much rather be a fucker.  No sex at all, is there anybody out there…apart from all those non-sexual girls I fear I will continue to meet again.  Why don`t they dig it, for they may break a nail or smudge their lipstick, ladder their tights-never had a classy lass with stockings, or do they worry about messing-up their hair.  I never realised until it was too late, that it is a beauty contest I had entered,  No, I never entered her my Lordy Lord.  I got banged-up for that.  18  years later, unlike the world, I hadn’t changed much.  I still needed love and afection, a little bit of recognition, a helping hand, a bosom to cushion my passion that`s passing passivity.   I have to disagree with myself, unless ia m sure.  I`m sure to disagree with you, just what is it that you want…deep down we wanna be free.  Free is when you don`t have to pay for nothing or do nothing, we want to be free, as free as a ranging radical. Tutti-Frutti, all rooty.  We are all singing off of the same hymn sheet, finally.  Elvis wanted to donate his hip for Grannie X.  He won` listen to reason, that young whippersnapper thinks he is still alive…   Interestingly, most of the dead don`t even know the fact that they are dead.  There are only small differences between the two states, almost indiscernible, but to the trained ghost-hunter killing a ghost can be tricky…it is easy enough to banish them illegal though, and the archaic law-makers always get their man!  I got a good whipping for killing a ghost, metaphorically reading.  Here is what happened…   I saw a ghost eating toast halfway up a lamp-post.  I said a prayer then he ain`t there, and the full force of Ghost \law came down upon my day.  \locked away for a billion years, God I was feeling horny…so said a devil, and I was ready to explode into the world of automatons and masters.  Dildo`s and onanism  were not my scene no more.  I was looking for some real one-one-one action.  I found it hard when I was with people again, they had somehow become totally paranoid.  I ain`t the devil, I insist, I ain`t the devil.  My efforts tailored-off after centuries of rejection and I finally succumbed to touching myself.  I felt nothing…I had become totally numb.  I took some pain-killers and laughed.   I felt as if I were swimming in treacle.  Where was I going…I don`t like eggs, and who are all these other bastards…they`d fucking kill me given the chance…not if I kill them first…my conception was going smoothly, although I am not sure if the noises were of pleasure or of pain…then supernova, bang! And in the image of myself, I am born.  I hope that I am not like any one else, and that no one will like me.  Be careful what you wish for, it will come true(something to do with infinity).  O no! not again…   I wish I never wished for my wishes to come true, for now I cannot stop them, they are out of my control…may the will of mankind save us all from the big bad wolves.  You eat like a pig!  Ever thought of chewing it?  You could…but no…It seems, no it is, that you are full of shit.  You will never go fast anywhere, and when you die of intestinal cancer, you`ll all know a bit oo latre the answer.  What is it that you want?   We want starving people to look at during tea-time, it makes us feel that Darwin was right and that we are strong…We want warm for the late night news, replacing the horror movies that once did scare us.  Scare us to titillation, with your wars. want murders and rapes more disgusting the ever before…Simple murders ain`t news no more, let it be gloriously gory with all the details, and then we can think ourselves lucky.  Let`s have some more…

Cont:  (don`t call me a cont!)

We want new ways to do unto each other Biblical Evils done in the name of Our Lord and Saviour.  Let`s slice `em up with a laser, give them chemo-therapy, and drop the bomb.  In the Future, every single individual (ending dual) will have instant nuclear response capability.  We will carry our Mega-Bombs in our pockets.; they will be as small as a credit-card, slightly thicker, which incidentally is the best way of making friends.  What a lovely world it will be… all the tensions diffused, entente cordial.  Obviously all the mad people will be cured of their particular madness, or the whole scheme would be a complete disaster.  Science is a wonderful thing.  I`m full of wonder.  I wander through my maze with my right hand on the wall, I didn`t have a ball of wool, damned hard are these days of amazement. My tour took me all the way around the world, and I was fortunate enough to meet everyone alive.  Sadly, I kept thinking of the ghosts that were once alive, and I missed most of what happened.  I was able to bullshit my way around this, simply by telling lies.  Yeah, you`re my best mate, (mate means to breed) and of course I love you.  Love is so ambiguous that one can`t possibly get it wrong whenever it is spoken. Never ask me How I love thee, you might not like my answer.  I`d love Jesus to come back to us, and then we could really hurt him!  Crucifiction`s for pussies.  I`d like to give him cancer, then miserably treat him with the futility of what we do.  Suffer…  he don`t know the meaning of the word, yet.  That`s why he won`t return… once crucified, twice shy.  I wish somebody would stick their nails in me, and give me a tree of my own.  But jealousy will get me nowhere, look at what happened to Lennon, he was only just a jealous guy.  

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