O fuck, there is an I in alcoholic. It’s a big I. Not a small i.
So in some reasoning I am still right!
It’s like every film about boxing works towards the slow motion scene in the fight and every romantic film crawls towards the scene just before the kiss.
It’s like Che Guevara wasn’t much of a hero actually.
And there has always been a crisis.
But in this day of age even the not blind can see the crisis.
The world got preordered and reordered before it got ordered.
If you hear it performed a capella you will understand.
It’s like making the Great Wall of China disappear.
And writing with blue ink on blue paper.
No, it’s not.
It’s like making the Great Wall of China appear.
And writing with blue ink on blue paper.
And writing with red ink on red paper is not like writing with blue ink on blue paper.
For writing with red ink on red paper you need red ink and red paper.
For writing with blue ink on blue paper you need blue ink and blue paper.
It’s a big difference.
And, of course, there is no I in ‘blue paper’, but who the fuck gives a fuck?
We stumble and turn, stumble and turn.
We stumble and turn and make a sport of forgetting.
This sometimes doesn’t work.
But then there is music and dance and pretention!