staying in the moment,
being in a rush,
travelling fast, far away,
time’s like a channel like a stream,
strong,
no way to go upstream
- cling on to that log of yours,
or else you’ll drown, ‘cause everything goes so fast now, and you try to help your friends, who’s lost their grip
- and sometimes you succeed
sometimes not.
Because time moves too fast now, the stream has grown too strong, and there’s no one to build a pond. And no one even have the time to raise crosses for those who died. They are anonymous. And you have to forget them. Concentrate on yourself; otherwise you’ll miss your spot, your chance, your life.
You’ll be rushing forth, even when stopped breathing, like movements in outer space. It’s a harsh world, harsh society, you live in.
step out, up on the riverbank you’ll see how ridiculous it seems, all these tiny figures fighting for survival in the water. If it wasn’t for the chill, it would look like hell. All those lost souls.
Be glad you’re out of it
start making your own rules
own pace.
There’s nothing wrong with trotting, especially not barefoot on a beach, feeling the surroundings, breathing the air – fill your belly.
Look around. Help survivors.
