“Maintain stability. The human wreck which is my mind, our world, inhibits me from entering orbit. Why must I perpetually strive to find the loop and intricate myself within it? I give up, livin’ it up from within, without. Mundane movement one after the other, black and white, gold and brown and then there’s nothing. Sounds merge to make one band of such madness, I die; then comes that one note, then rhythm and finally rhyme. Beat, fleet from France facing fearlessly the contrast growing gingerly gardening in Germany.
Can no one see the musicality of the flowers that grow on the side of the mountain, this simplicity innate in the gargantuaness of the bustling life around it. What else is there, what is left to ponder upon, to study? Observe, mates, and listen to that flower, hear it dance so peacefully amongst the insanity that is the city, the men the women the dogs the children”.