[Cover of a cover of the original song by Marc Cooper] Speak in perfect and rounded terms, or write books full of wisdom. You will always retain in your mind the same void and the silence. Words are only a bitter blast of a wind in the open. It may refresh your soul, but it won't lead you to anywhere. You may be fooled by the crowd pulling through the streets. Warm wine drank in the park or the glow of sunset. But remember, in truth nothing happens at all. And no thing will happen until the end. But remember, in truth nothing happens at all. And no thing will happen until the end. Speak in perfect and rounded terms, or write books full of wisdom. You will always retain in your mind the same void and the silence. Trust only the tangle of lips, the raw babbling misunderstood. Gestures floating in the void, so imperfect. You may be fooled by the crowd pulling through the streets. Warm wine drank in the park or the glow of sunset. But remember, in truth nothing happens at all. And no thing will happen until the end. But remember, in truth nothing happens at all. And no thing will happen until the end. You may be fooled by the crowd pulling through the streets. Warm wine drank in the park or the glow of sunset. But remember, in truth nothing happens at all. And no thing will happen until the end. But remember, in truth nothing happens at all. And no thing will happen until the end.
