Starting from the famous 42
stepping two at left,
two at the right,
stopping to contemplate:
what a bullshit this is.
There should be a meaning of this existence…
If there is no reason of my being,
I could be even a light
in a lamp, or a grumpy husky,
but rahter I keep on asking…
Is there any meaning in my existence?
Or am I the arrant product of
infinite coincidence, the bounced out dog,
who is produced here by the pointless,
impersonal unreality?
Couldn’t be, that the fault is
in my device?
If there is a God, then I think
He couldn’t be so gammy,
that he couldn’t have a word with me.
stepping two at left,
two at the right,
stopping to contemplate:
what a bullshit this is.
There should be a meaning of this existence…
If there is no reason of my being,
I could be even a light
in a lamp, or a grumpy husky,
but rahter I keep on asking…
Is there any meaning in my existence?
Or am I the arrant product of
infinite coincidence, the bounced out dog,
who is produced here by the pointless,
impersonal unreality?
Couldn’t be, that the fault is
in my device?
If there is a God, then I think
He couldn’t be so gammy,
that he couldn’t have a word with me.
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