It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do anything
im to the point where im sick of this world. im sick of it all. im tired of sitting on the bus listening to who fucked who. who knows the guy from hollister. who saw matt in his underwear. whos getting some this weekend. i have to turn my music up full blast so i dont turn around & yell at them to shut the fuck up. im sick of the day by day drama. dont they understand that there are so many other big things going on in this world? do they really think that 5 or 10 years from now that all this will really matter? do they? how could they? i think its quite sad how rapped up they are in the drama of high school. i wish that they would all step back & realize that it is not only about them. that there are other things at stake. as i sit there, listening to the "who fucked whos" of the weekend i hope that they will shut the fuck up & get over themselves. i wonder what they say when they see the starving people in other country commercials. you know, the dime a day ones. i wonder if they laugh. or if they say "oh im so glad i dont live there". my bet is that they dont even think about it. they switch the channel so they can see how nelly lives in his mtv crib. well im sick of this all. im waiting for the world to cave in on itself.
I've met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, "Why?" Why did I cause so much pain? Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can't I see how we're all manifestations of love? I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God's got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. And God says, "No, that's not right." Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can't teach God anything.
I've met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, "Why?" Why did I cause so much pain? Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can't I see how we're all manifestations of love? I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God's got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. And God says, "No, that's not right." Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can't teach God anything.