The raw-ness of raw evenings,
And all the things you can’t say,
The utter pointless, swerve of
A future that is as stupid and undecided as you,
And the bombs will come and the children will die
And the images and films will be the same;
But there is never a reason.
 |
| It must be that simple. |
It must be that simple
The greater good.
I always wonder what would happen if
The people who crowd the streets with
Such moral indignation,
And the obvious lick of the good and the true,
Were given their way,
Would utopia dawn, would a world of
Complete peace be the answer,
The completion of the dialectic?
No, but the point is the action
The pointless, heroic failure
Getting to the truth is not the goal
Knowing it won’t happen, that is the function.
The real reason for the horror is never
Defined and is probably dull and banal.
The conspiracy:
we live for the mystery
And the things they don’t say
Are the things in ourselves we don’t want to know.
So march March on, but know
You are walking away from the Real.
