“But aren't you dancing with a dead instrument?
No, you fool.
Instruments that make music are perpetually alive in their immortality.
Music cannot be killed, don't you understand?
“Duang!” — The music of life is born.
My lively companion brings me to life and lead me away from this bookish philosophy!
A conclusion!
Meaning, even the word itself, is empty.
What we really have is Observation!
“Duang!” — “Duang!”
“Madness you are! Insane! Deranged! Hopeless! What Failure!
Calm yourself with this wine!”
No, you Snake.
Ha! Don’t I know only clear minds can observe? Don’t I know a drop of your poison would drift
any mind into Lost?
See, see! The figures that move about bear only the resemblance of life, hovering within
their Mystified conceptions of an illusion!
“Duang!” — “Duang!” — “Duang!”
Hey-Ho! Swallow the spectacle as a whole.
Reason, but Post-mortem! Contemplate, after Atrocities!
Such as the essence of their Humanity.
“…, …”
“Duang!” — “Duang!” — “Duang!” — “Duang!”
Hallelujah! Their last retreat is a God and his love. Yet perhaps their God truly loves, but Knows
them not.
Thank that God who gives Hope, and Love—in a Longing Song.
“Duang!”
I dance with my Gong.
“Duang!”
I dance with my Gong.
“Duang!”
I dance with my Gong!
