ceci n'est pas ue planete

If moths had eyes, would they be happier?
How do they know they're not dead?
Cavemen hunting for food, but not before they style their hair on their head.
What would last longer in dinosaur times?
A blind man didn't stand a chance, not with all them rocks about;
I'd rather be a blind moth.

I watch the best Broadway musical
every day from the best seat in the
house and I am the author and the critic and the
audience and sometimes I'm on stage
too.

Tiger got to hunt.
Bird go to fly.
Man got to sit and wonder, "why, why, why?"
Tiger got to sleep.
Bird got to land.
Man got to tell himself he understands.

What's it matter if the truth is that their favoring breeze has the stink of nickel whiskey on it's breath, and their sea is a growler of lager and ale, and their ships are long since looted and scuttled and sunk on the bottom? To hell with the truth! As the history of the world proves, the truth has no bearing on anything. It's irrelevant and immaterial, as the lawyers say. The lie of a pipe dream is what gives life to the whole misbegotten mad lot of us, drunk or sober.