It Was Not An Adventure; It Was

I Think The End Is Endless. It's Either A Big Black Hole Or A Big White Light Or Both Together. But It's Totally Meaningless, Because Even If Someone Would Explain It, I Wouldn't Understand It.

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.

Every Intelligent Person, Whether Hes An Artist Or Not - A Mathematician, A Doctor, A Scientist - Possesses A Poetic Way Of Seeing And Describing The World.

And I Said To Myself: That's True, Hope Needs To Be Like Barbed Wire To Keep Out Despair, Hope Must Be A Mine Field.

Behind All This, Some Great Happiness Is Hiding.