there's so much nothing i haven't said because the beginnings never began before the routine sang it's monotonous chant toward mother's overhang and fathers underpass and a lover's grasp of emptiness and cover and my own mask of bags buying and wandering a little around a little town a little down lost and found i can't do this anymore there's no what for or doors open anymore i can't do any doing just like the doing i was taught to empty till the last resort to relieve is to abandon and abort i don't care enough anymore why am i and what's more what for, thanks for the somethings towards the nothing and the nothing i tour the nothing i endure then when nothing ends no one's poorer i've never been surer [end] [end]
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