That's what youth wants to know, maybe a hundred years, for all we know, is all we know

Yelling nothing, perfectly okay, rig for silent running, stay out of the talk, that stalks the walk

People are powerless, power is rain and lightning, power is the bright sunny day of all life growing

Adults believe that children live in fairy tale worlds, once grown up, they leave that world behind to face reality

Driving everywhere one can see anything

It's called space digital, the stuff real theorists dream about

One day the same old road gets a new look

We practice privileged life in our sleep, waking we deny it, we don't need it Back to dreamland every night, not just once again, but repeatingly repetitious

Everything designed to make us look smart, without thinking intelligently Monolithic god never made it down the mountain that day, dozens standing today

Old Waves Fun Forever What gets copied and what doesn't get copied, makes a difference

Everything Is Art Eyes have a hundred million explanations, but some are looks frozen

Leaching Eyes have a hundred million different expressions, but some are looks frozen

People treating the Earth with abandonment, blundering through ways, through Gardens of Edens Playing Russian Roulettes with Mother Nature, the most dangerous of games, the blanks are loaded

Motion Art

High Renaissance, a time of two great books

Clarifying adjectives create statements of intent, that never need be globally carried out Conflictions of interest, problems never solved, only kicked up roads of missed conceptions

Hurricane Seasonings People ever only know one percent of any situation, hidden connections run for miles