it was a hot day
the pavement moved and the dogs dug holes
the inside was cold
bless those who work in the air conditioning industry
gypsies talking bout revolution
citys lame and asleep, the coastlines are aglow
towns with numbered streets and dirty gas stations
the east/west roads are travelled and travelled
car loads of glowface robots
knowledge is only taught here
there is no more to know
what a depressing prospect
truth is, we make our own knowledge
the old will hold on to their own knowledge
the imposition is relentless
no compelling at all
well, take your knowledge and find a tremendously large coconut
crack it open, without breaking it in two
place your computer beeper into the coconut immersed in the coconut liquid
bury it in a suburban landfill
the most repectable method of waste control
certainly better than trashing the holy oceans
from there, we can know nothing
what a joy that would be
finding things out on our own
learning from dumbs of the previous generation
knowing that we will get our time and the time is now
we don't know nothing
we are the creators, defining what knowledge means
all the broken folks of the past
all the foolish hypnotized lads
the lure of adulation is a curse on truth
to live outside the law you must be honest
agreed mr dylan and mr thompson
yes, it was a hot damn day.