The Dream Is Already Ended And We're

Our Radio Plays Rhythm And Blues As We Pass The Joint Back And Forth In Jutjawed Silence Both Looking Ahead With Big Private Thoughts Now So Vast We Can't Communicate Them Anymore And If We Tried It Would Take A Million Years And A Billion Books - Too Late, Too Late, The History Of Everything We've Seen Together And Separately Has Become A Library In Itself - The Shelves Pile Higher - They're Full Of Misty Documents Or Documents Of The Mist-.

The Beauty Of Things Must Be That They End.

You Can't Fight City Hall. It Keeps Changing Its Name.

And Still The Void Is Still And'll Never Move - But I Will Be The Void, Moving Without Having Moved.

The Golden Eternity Is { }