Snub-nosed monkey mourns dying mate |
Before we ate the "altering apple" (thanx Joni Mitchell for that perfect trope) God led us without our knowing it. Afterward, we thought we knew Who God Is, and followed our delusions of divinity via our new found Knowledge of Good and Evil (as if). But we have to believe in something. It's how we're wired. Even I do. Passionately. With all my mind, heart, body, and soul, even though I am the closest thing to a true Diogenesian cynic that I can recall meeting other than, perhaps, the Mystery Man in the 1974 Shelby GT Ford Mustang convertible who saved my life around midnight in June of 1975 and drove us for 5 five hours at 140 mph nonstop, except for a gas stop, over eastern Colorado's and northern Kansas' rolling plains. (Yes, it's a true story: that's why it's so hard to believe.)
Listen to the losers among us. They follow us. Watchful, concerned, knowing they can't save us but still trying to rescue a few of us here and there from our ferocious follies, maybe even themselves:
(music, maestro) Love's Missing
She's thinking about something we all need
All need
Clock's ticking, not giving her room to breathe
To breathe
Love's screaming
Love's missing
Love's screaming, so quietly and in pain
Love's absent, it's failing her once again, again
Love's screaming
Love's screaming
Dark future, she just needs someone to say
To say
"I love you", before she gets pushed away
Love's absent
Love's absent
The center won't hold me in
Love's absent
And she cannot touch a friend
A friend
She's breathing, and that isn't gonna help
No help
Clock's ticking, it's bad when she's by herself
Herself
Love's breathing
Love's missing
Love's screaming
Screaming
It happens every day.
Someone near you.
Who Are They?
Where are they? What can be done? Go find them and find out.
Follow.
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