Diary of a Genius Songtext
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Dear Diary
I woke at the usual time. Everything is basically the same as the day before. I checked my ID. I am still David Candy.
The trick today will be to try to affect fate's great wheel, and its sentence upon us.
With the zodiac, chemical psychology, genetics, cultural inheritance, and Hegel's "Spirit of History" why even get out of bed?
The extent of our collective enslavement to destiny has never been more apparent.
Dear Diary
First the compulsion is to drink coffee in the morning. Then, hunger for nourishment.
The phone rings like a crying baby, leading us all on its leash. We cannot resist.
The weather dictates our clothes: windy and rainy, again.
I woke at the usual time. Everything is basically the same as the day before. I checked my ID. I am still David Candy.
The trick today will be to try to affect fate's great wheel, and its sentence upon us.
With the zodiac, chemical psychology, genetics, cultural inheritance, and Hegel's "Spirit of History" why even get out of bed?
The extent of our collective enslavement to destiny has never been more apparent.
Dear Diary
First the compulsion is to drink coffee in the morning. Then, hunger for nourishment.
The phone rings like a crying baby, leading us all on its leash. We cannot resist.
The weather dictates our clothes: windy and rainy, again.
The constellations telegraph their intentions for us, depending on our particular sign. "Wear red today," mine says.
The employer has a fealty for an allotted time each day. He is the boss: an absolute monarch.
Time marches on, unaffected by clever manipulations of clocks and watches.
A week ago, the time lady was paid off by some rich octogenarians. No effect.
Dear Diary
I needed a hobby, so today I took up smoking.
Technology develops, and is utilized religiously, inexorably, despite its uselessness and/or harmfulness.
Art simply exposits these developments; a sort of business expo.
Radio is pre-determined, pointless. Film is awful. Transfixing spectacle. A celluloid car crash.
Dear Diary
Have you registered to vote?
What occurs each day called "the news" is determined by the companies who broadcast.
This cannot be changed.
Question: if something happens and no one speaks about it, did it occur?
Answer: no.
I'm left-handed. Everyone is born with a hand which is preferential. This is impossible to change.
The cars which crowd the street stop us from walking there. In the afternoon I checked flight times in case the need arose to leave.
What color is the wind? And where did it begin?
And would you call it blue? Or is it white like light?
Or red like dawn? Or couldn't you see right through?
It could be invisible, not seen but felt like when you're feeling blue
Like the feelings I have, I got them from you.
What color are my eyes? Look deep inside
Would you call them blue?
If you look closer then you'll see
Green and yellow brown and shades and colors new
The rule of eyes is they refract the things they see, that's you.
So when you see the color blue it's not the wind. It's you.
The employer has a fealty for an allotted time each day. He is the boss: an absolute monarch.
Time marches on, unaffected by clever manipulations of clocks and watches.
A week ago, the time lady was paid off by some rich octogenarians. No effect.
Dear Diary
I needed a hobby, so today I took up smoking.
Technology develops, and is utilized religiously, inexorably, despite its uselessness and/or harmfulness.
Art simply exposits these developments; a sort of business expo.
Radio is pre-determined, pointless. Film is awful. Transfixing spectacle. A celluloid car crash.
Dear Diary
Have you registered to vote?
What occurs each day called "the news" is determined by the companies who broadcast.
This cannot be changed.
Question: if something happens and no one speaks about it, did it occur?
Answer: no.
I'm left-handed. Everyone is born with a hand which is preferential. This is impossible to change.
The cars which crowd the street stop us from walking there. In the afternoon I checked flight times in case the need arose to leave.
What color is the wind? And where did it begin?
And would you call it blue? Or is it white like light?
Or red like dawn? Or couldn't you see right through?
It could be invisible, not seen but felt like when you're feeling blue
Like the feelings I have, I got them from you.
What color are my eyes? Look deep inside
Would you call them blue?
If you look closer then you'll see
Green and yellow brown and shades and colors new
The rule of eyes is they refract the things they see, that's you.
So when you see the color blue it's not the wind. It's you.
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