| Ed was at the end of his rope, an expression he detested
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| «There is no rope», he would scream at the laughing walls
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| There is only the end, no hope, no rope
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| Ending is better than mending
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| Doors of perception, windows of opportunity
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| These are illusions like the killing floor
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| Ed spoke in a squeaky whiny voice
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| With perhaps a slight tinge of glee
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| But this was only because he couldn’t be bothered
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| To try to develop a manner of speaking
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| That truly reflected his mood
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| This is a vaccum, there is no air in this room
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| Despair is no fun anymore
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| Nihilism knocked three times on the ceiling
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| But the rosy fingers of dawn always inserted themselves
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| In the nose of unfulfilled promises
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| Angels sang, «Heysanna, Hosanna»
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| Paralyzed prima-donnas danced in the streets all day
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| But when the darkness came, everybody went home
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| I was ready, everyone else was asleep
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| And while it might have been a relief to see
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| That I was right all along
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| Here I am still, alone and trapped
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| Awaiting the endless end
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| And I can turn it all around
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| And laugh at it and laugh at myself
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| I can laugh louder than the walls, the halls, the waterfalls
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| Louder than Charles De Gaul or Fulton Mall
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| But I don’t know what I’m laughing at
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| I don’t know just what I think is so goddamn funny
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| I don’t know why I don’t just shut up
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| And give up and lay down and die
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| «What do I have to complain about anyway?»
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| Ed asked his Picasso, «I'm a millionaire»
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| This wasn’t actually true
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| Ed’s Picasso was an obvious forgery
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| His three Rothkos had just been singled out
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| In an article in 'Art forum' entitled
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| 'The Three Most Insignificant Paintings of Mark Rothko'
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| And his Barbara Krugers had been irreparably damaged
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| By Rein Sanction and a few other bands from Gainesville
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| That refused to acknowledge the value of art
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| «Come to think of it», Ed mused
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| To the laminated roadkill coffee table that he had purchased
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| When times had seemed slightly less bleak
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| «Come to think of it, not only does art have no intrinsic value
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| But my collection has no extrinsic value either»
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| «I know I’m not a millionaire
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| But that’s no reason to complain
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| There is no reason to complain
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| There is no reason to do anything»
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| «I don’t believe in reason, objective reality or collective farming
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| I don’t believe in public speaking
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| Which is another reason why I’m here alone
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| I don’t believe in life or death
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| I would kill myself but I don’t believe in suicide»
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| Ed put on a red shirt and took a quick walk around the block
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| While whistling softly to himself
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| He reentered his apartment screaming
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| «There is no life on this planet»
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| «Jehovah One replaced all life with machinery five centuries ago
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| The so-called Industrial Revolution
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| Was just another hoax and we all fell for it
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| 'Cause we were all programmed to, even I fell for it
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| I believe in the steam engine
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| Even though I don’t believe in anything»
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| Logical inconsistency is the Mr. Bubble I bathe in
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| Each and every evening, except for yesterday evening
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| When I roller bladed over to the Masonic Temple
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| To play pinochle with Pope John Paul the First
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| I really had no choice in the matter"
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| Ed certainly could go on and on
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| And he did, and he would and he will
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| Until you or I or somebody does something about it
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| Senator Sterno of Louisiana
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| Announced over closed circuit television
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| And as long as he continues to pontificate pointlessly
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| I will do nothing
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| Ed walked away from the program feeling fortified and stapled
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| His brain was buzzing, the way it always did just after 'Jeopardy'
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| He loaded up the micro bus with atlases and poseidons
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| And headed for Pope County
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| «I've had it», he sang, «I've had it with puns, alliteration
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| Russian literature, Italian neorealism
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| Meaningless cross references and laundry lists of nonsense
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| I shall drive without a license, without clothing, without direction»
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| «And if I make it to Arkansas, fine
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| And if I’m running late, if I’m running a numbers game
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| It doesn’t matter, I shall keep on running»
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| «Yes, this is the answer, this is the ending, I shall keep on running
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| Because a body in motion tends to stay emotional
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| And it’s better to feel, pain is better than emptiness
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| Emptiness is better than nothing, and nothing is better than this» |