Fuck this love-for-love shit, man.
That’s for poets and fools, and maybe those
who ain’t ever tasted the bitter end
of a heart split wide open.
I do it from love, see? Not for it.
Love’s a drunk sailor, promising treasure
and delivering a hurricane.
But you sail anyway, don’t you?
You do it ‘cause the storm’s in your blood,
‘cause the ocean’s your only home.
Even when the waves try to drown you,
you dive deeper.
Sun was a piss-yellow lemon, world a gris soup.
Woke up with a rhythm poundin’ in my skull,
like a drunk piano player tryin’ to tune a chainsaw.
Got out of bed, stiff as a rusty gate,
and started to move. Not dance, more like a desperate plea
to somethin’ out there, maybe a pissed-off gopher.
Universe, you big, indifferent zero, watch this:
I’m a broken record scratchin’ out a tune to nowhere.
I’m flailin’ and stompin’ and singin’ off-key,
a one-man band at a deaf school.
Yeah, I’m a joke, a stain, a cosmic accident,
but I’m still here, still movin’.
So laugh, you cold, empty bastard, laugh.
But watch me dance.