"He was a lonely ghost uttering a truth that nobody would ever hear.
But so long as he uttered it, in some obscure way the continuity was not broken.
It was not by making yourself heard but by staying sane that you carried on the human heritage.
He went back to the table, dipped his pen, and wrote:"
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Bright Eyes :: Light Pollution (live, 2005)
Listening to records in his basement:
Old folk songs about the government
'It's love of money, not the market,'
He said these fuckers push on you
'And freedom yells, it don't cry
Whatever sells will decide
But there's no hell when you die
So don't look so worried...'
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