Lying around waiting for the name of your platform with channels of time falling apart on yesterdays late train. You didn't make your dinner, that's just one of the things building up, the hunger to kick over that table of pale green mess of vegetables into the face of distasteful dreams . Take your gun out and shoot the highest big shot. Run down the traffic warden who see's you do it first. Sit down, take an exam, become good at life, get the marks. Grow and learn till you die, conserve your teachings at 22, spit back at any help you ever got, be the business, write a thesis, buy a house, knock down a tree, jack be finance, jack be free.
Jack look back, Jack spit at me, Jack I got a father, who doesn't dream.
And then he turned away,
And another one said,
Okay.
Quit.
Mad.
Stop.
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