My monkey friend says
that worry's a joke
Jim Morrison was a cloudy headed fool
and the world will end in 26,371 days.
He says mankind's a mutated virus
Highways and cities choke the earth
and we were better off when we crapped among the ferns
"Not that Cincinnati isn't impressive," he says.
He says the only decent things we do
are love and play
write love poems, and cook
Then he gets angry with himself for sounding like a hippy
He says our American god was designed and refined
by weak frightened men
for tonic and control
He mumbles that if there is a god, it's systematic entropy
and beauty in the patterns we find
"Not as soothing as an existential 1-800 number,"
(what he calls Christianity)
"but beautiful," he says.
He says you're better off without your television
and that hole in your gut
He insists time is a series of spirals and circles trapped in an intergalactic funnel
not a line
Most people have that wrong
and always will
at least for another 26,371 days.
He laughs when I bring up JFK and won't tell me why.
He says simple moments in the sun
are more important than grand finales
occupations, Oprah life-goals on rails
or even great works of architecture
He seems to have a real problem with Oprah
He says if you need a suggested reading list
you should just go back to bed
He says aliens exist, but it takes too long to get here
so don't get excited
strip malls & pasta wouldn't thrill them anyway
He says I'm hiding.
He says we're all hiding.
He says the pendulum is coming back around and it's really pissed off
He says in 26,371 days I won't feel a thing.