Sometimes making sense is the last thing anyone in societies that foster decadence should do. Who runs this show? Who gets the boo, who gets the cheer, and who fucking cares? Millions are unable to conceive that freedom itself made new friends and left your sweet ass with the bill. The middle sixties got it right and clear. Experiencing the weird subterranean lifestyles provided by psychedelic responses while those too young to vote got a ride in the jungle to kill. Was that generation really losing their fucking minds over the politicians? If I even found the sense in the world I know I'd sell it to some gullible insurance salesman who wants to get off the road, just before it all explodes. Get him a nice square box on the hillside. Retire the suit and tie. The capitalist superhero outfit that tells people on the subway. Yeah, I read a book one time but I can't remember any of it. Poor guy. I can change my gender faster than Cassius Clay could change his fucking name. It doesn't make sense. Stop making excuses for a system that has molded everything you ever believed. Beauty, love, gender, God, sex. Politics, classism, racism, baseball, medicine, etiquette, psychology, Elvis, and poetry. Life is not a sea stop saying the ocean is pretty when it's blue mystical expression faded with the dinosaurs. Rage without answering. Say no when it doesn't apply. Care less about Jack and Jill and more about the hill. Collectively we decay, stop pretending it is okay.