Eyes like a satellite
Fills the sky with a mystery cloud
Why would these fantasies
Now I know there is no, nowhere to go
Eyes in the dead of night
Cries like a hand on the fire
Why would this send for me
You know there's no, new way to go
Everybody should do in their lifetime, sometime.
One, is to consider death.
To observe skulls and skeletons
And to wonder what it would be like to go to sleep, and to never wake up, ever.
That is the most- is a very gloomy thing for contemplation.
But it's like manure,
Just as manure fertilizes the plants and so on.
So as the contemplation of death, and the acceptance of death
Is very highly generative of creative life.
You get wonderful things out of that.
Fills the sky with a mystery cloud
Why would these fantasies
Now I know there is no, nowhere to go
Eyes in the dead of night
Cries like a hand on the fire
Why would this send for me
You know there's no, new way to go
Everybody should do in their lifetime, sometime.
One, is to consider death.
To observe skulls and skeletons
And to wonder what it would be like to go to sleep, and to never wake up, ever.
That is the most- is a very gloomy thing for contemplation.
But it's like manure,
Just as manure fertilizes the plants and so on.
So as the contemplation of death, and the acceptance of death
Is very highly generative of creative life.
You get wonderful things out of that.