I was thinking about thinking but it really didn't get me very far,
so I thought I'd throw a Tarot but I only got the Priestess and the Star
There's a shadow cast between the future and the past:
the room and I agree to buy some time
The cards don't tell truth nor lies,
only options and cusp lines
the furniture in the black room
I've been thinking abour acid, but, it seem there's not a reason to?believe
I don't make a vital breakthrough and it walks me like a dog upon a lead
It's all unreal and, the way I feel,
I'd like to try and make it on my own
Going to the feeling is find:
I really have me a good pleasure cruise
But, deep in my mind,
I'm no better or worse, just open to the walls
Paint peels in the black of my room
I'm only talking about myself, ordering my treasure shell,
documenting these present feelings as the future sets me reeling
What I'll be is what I am,
I'm simply trying not to sham or fake
Use vision as sense and not as crutch!
It doesn't mateer all that much;
whatever happens we'll all survive
I'm only trying not to pawn my life
When I'm (maybe) old and strait-laced, shall I then deny all that I feel?
In words of bitter compromise, re-smelt the wrath that's in my eyes
like steel?
Be a hermit then?
Or be a miser?
Be a man who hasn't managed yet to write his rules?
The Fool?
The future holds my hand in the room
Well, then my ghosts shall steer down through the years
and lay a hand upon my soul
like ice