Russian literature, Italian neorealism
Announced over closed circuit television
And I can turn it all around
Because a body in motion tends to stay emotional
I will do nothing
I don't know why I don't just shut up
But I don't know what I'm laughing at
There is only the end, no hope, no rope
There is no reason to do anything"
He reentered his apartment screaming
This is a vaccum, there is no air in this room
Meaningless cross references and laundry lists of nonsense
Louder than Charles De Gaul or Fulton Mall
Even though I don't believe in anything"
Ed spoke in a squeaky whiny voice
This wasn't actually true
"What do I have to complain about anyway?"
And while it might have been a relief to see
Awaiting the endless end
Nihilism knocked three times on the ceiling
Despair is no fun anymore
"And if I make it to Arkansas, fine
And headed for Pope County
And laugh at it and laugh at myself
Doors of perception, windows of opportunity
Ed put on a red shirt and took a quick walk around the block
"Come to think of it", Ed mused
"I don't believe in reason, objective reality or collective farming
His three Rothkos had just been singled out
To try to develop a manner of speaking
With perhaps a slight tinge of glee
But when the darkness came, everybody went home
When I roller bladed over to the Masonic Temple
That truly reflected his mood
I really had no choice in the matter"
In an article in 'Art forum' entitled
And it's better to feel, pain is better than emptiness
I believe in the steam engine
'Cause we were all programmed to, even I fell for it
Ending is better than mending
But my collection has no extrinsic value either"
Here I am still, alone and trapped
"There is no life on this planet"
'The Three Most Insignificant Paintings of Mark Rothko'
By Rein Sanction and a few other bands from Gainesville
Was just another hoax and we all fell for it
"I know I'm not a millionaire
I don't know just what I think is so goddamn funny
I don't believe in public speaking
And as long as he continues to pontificate pointlessly
I can laugh louder than the walls, the halls, the waterfalls
These are illusions like the killing floor
The so-called Industrial Revolution
And give up and lay down and die
It doesn't matter, I shall keep on running"
I shall drive without a license, without clothing, without direction"
Which is another reason why I'm here alone
"Come to think of it, not only does art have no intrinsic value
And if I'm running late, if I'm running a numbers game
Ed certainly could go on and on
"Yes, this is the answer, this is the ending, I shall keep on running
I would kill myself but I don't believe in suicide"
Ed's Picasso was an obvious forgery
"I've had it", he sang, "I've had it with puns, alliteration
Ed walked away from the program feeling fortified and stapled
I was ready, everyone else was asleep
His brain was buzzing, the way it always did just after 'Jeopardy'
While whistling softly to himself
But the rosy fingers of dawn always inserted themselves
"Jehovah One replaced all life with machinery five centuries ago
But that's no reason to complain
That refused to acknowledge the value of art
When times had seemed slightly less bleak
Angels sang, "Heysanna, Hosanna"
Paralyzed prima-donnas danced in the streets all day
He loaded up the micro bus with atlases and poseidons
There is no reason to complain
To play pinochle with Pope John Paul the First
But this was only because he couldn't be bothered
And he did, and he would and he will
Until you or I or somebody does something about it
Each and every evening, except for yesterday evening
I don't believe in life or death
Ed asked his Picasso, "I'm a millionaire"
And his Barbara Krugers had been irreparably damaged
In the nose of unfulfilled promises
Senator Sterno of Louisiana
That I was right all along
Logical inconsistency is the Mr. Bubble I bathe in
To the laminated roadkill coffee table that he had purchased
