after wandering in the summer rain
I see them poor kids shooting up cocaine
my children have many ways to look for divinity
the mother of those two shooting is trying it out through poetry
...and his soul is tied to mine
forever holding hands but in no thing called time
forever holding hands but in no thing called time
why do I feel like this now?
is it just the cocaine going down?
what I wish to remind you today is
I created man in my image
these kids will suffer in the chaos of internal space
not being able to create themselves in the image of the original goddess
a man cannot really exist as a sovereign being
without a consciousness in a form in which it is able to reign
no shortcuts have ever lead the way to a true realization
like when not remembering a dream for the absence of the web of association
