off the cliff
There was a time when my heart and brain where connected, joined by the hip and working shoulder to shoulder for one goal. Several times there was so many goals in the horizon that the sky seemed the limit, if there was such thing as a limit. There was a time when the road ahead seemed like a paved six lane highway with no speed limit at all, and when it was just a matter of stepping on the gas, all the way, and heading towards a great beyond.
Back in those days there was a little bit of everything, but more than anything there was a lot of hope and a continuous thought in my head that things where heading in the right direction and that everything was going to be better, great, awesome, fantastic, and above all that things were going to change. A much needed change ever since the dust settle and I started working for a big goal high up in the sky. The closer I got to it, the easier and more reachable it seemed, and at the same time the bar started to rise higher and higher. That first goal was reached and breached with some work, tons of hard work, and plenty of very hard work, sweat and little sleep.
Today there's more plans and more objectives, but hope ran with the milkman and it seems that she's gone for good. Don't even know if the course of action is the right one, is actually impossible to know if any course of action is the right one, but there's always a lot of clues and quite a few graffitis on the wall to guide you in your trip. I can't read those signs no more and I can't understand what those voices inside my head are trying to say, if they care to say something at all. I look at my watch and can't figure out, as I so easily use to do before, why it always stands at 11:11. It used to mean a lot of things when it happened, today I can't put the pieces together in this psychedelic puzzle.
Those once upon a time six lanes look now like an unpaved and bumpy one-and-a-half-lane country road after a month of heavy rains. I'm at the wheel of the old farm truck with the whole harvest loosely tied, and I can feel it drifting off the cliff.
Back in those days there was a little bit of everything, but more than anything there was a lot of hope and a continuous thought in my head that things where heading in the right direction and that everything was going to be better, great, awesome, fantastic, and above all that things were going to change. A much needed change ever since the dust settle and I started working for a big goal high up in the sky. The closer I got to it, the easier and more reachable it seemed, and at the same time the bar started to rise higher and higher. That first goal was reached and breached with some work, tons of hard work, and plenty of very hard work, sweat and little sleep.
Today there's more plans and more objectives, but hope ran with the milkman and it seems that she's gone for good. Don't even know if the course of action is the right one, is actually impossible to know if any course of action is the right one, but there's always a lot of clues and quite a few graffitis on the wall to guide you in your trip. I can't read those signs no more and I can't understand what those voices inside my head are trying to say, if they care to say something at all. I look at my watch and can't figure out, as I so easily use to do before, why it always stands at 11:11. It used to mean a lot of things when it happened, today I can't put the pieces together in this psychedelic puzzle.
Those once upon a time six lanes look now like an unpaved and bumpy one-and-a-half-lane country road after a month of heavy rains. I'm at the wheel of the old farm truck with the whole harvest loosely tied, and I can feel it drifting off the cliff.
Jean-Francois was drunk at 11:11 PM
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