Let's Write Madly / I'm Designer / No One Knows
Writing madly, writing madly, let's do it.
Only there is no one here to do it with. Millions flock to the center, leaving the outskirts dry. "No skirts!" What a shame. Aren't the skirts the fuel for building empires? I'm meant for building empires, but no skirts flock. Is that just? Fighting to be unfamiliar. Swimming against current for an end of river unimaginable to begin with. Is he jaded by you, world? Is he hurt? Is he dumb? To each his own, I guess. But what does he know of what he owns, much less what he is, if all we eat is fed?
"I am designer." Words of the designed.
Who the fuck knows?
Only there is no one here to do it with. Millions flock to the center, leaving the outskirts dry. "No skirts!" What a shame. Aren't the skirts the fuel for building empires? I'm meant for building empires, but no skirts flock. Is that just? Fighting to be unfamiliar. Swimming against current for an end of river unimaginable to begin with. Is he jaded by you, world? Is he hurt? Is he dumb? To each his own, I guess. But what does he know of what he owns, much less what he is, if all we eat is fed?
"I am designer." Words of the designed.
Who the fuck knows?