We Are Made of Stars

We are made of stars. We live in the chemical oriented world. We are slowly losing our touch. We are taking it all too seriously. We don´t understand that all the exlapanations are just hypotetical illusions. The truth of universe is the kaleidoscope, as that freak Clover told us in his book "The Barbiturate Coast".




You can call them human people, you can call them as your friends, but I think that all the little people are cats who fix the facts. You can´t see what I see. Your funeral, my perfectly beautiful universe behind this universe.




You may try pills, you may try booze, even drugs, you may try stock markets. Maybe some fucks can even understand in this long lost planet that all you need is a powerful shotgun. Hey sister shotgun, what have you done this time to get me this fuckin dizzy, Lizzy?





Friday night and the lights are low. No show. Just that giant television in your room threatning to eat you up if you don´t do as it tells and participate six hour long hardcore fucking party in your mind. Crowds are crawling it the streets, looking for love in too many faces, all the wrong places. Hey dude, brothers and sisters; what are we fighting for? Is the cramp which lasts 3-6 seconds the meaning of your miserable life? Is it worth it?

Friday night and the Hell´s Angels are singing karoke in the Trouser Hill Bar. And the soft fat lesbian waitress is looking for the chance to show how hard she is.



The Big Man is staring me from my giant television and asking me to join the biggest last crusade forever. I would join the team but I can´t stand the heat in that concrete jungle. I tell The Big Man from the great state of Texas to go to another channel - TV7 - which our religious neighbours are watching all day, all night long. Maybe they are willing to participate so I don´t have to listen them singing old songs about God and his unfortunate son every another sunday night.




And during the weekend I´m sending my misseles to search and destroy the target. I am doing it 3-6 hours per night. During the daytime I´m pretending to be normal and they just don´t have any clue of my missele operations all over the matrix behind the closed doors.




When I wake up to take another sniff the visitors are still taking it easy. They are like little creatures of arts and culture. So they are saying, it´s all same too me. I have my own intentions. They can be whatever they like. They can be rock stars, they can be call girls, they can be tram drivers, but the only sure thing is that they are not cats. They are just wearing those funny bunny dresses to mislead you, if you know what I mean.

When reality breaks you can see and feel all the good vibrations, all the waves going through your body and the electric web called "soul". And you can take it easy for the rest of your life; your are just and particle who thinks too much. If you can´t stop the party in your mind and the drugs don´t work, be sure to have that shotgun missele ready for action!



Jostle, hassle, elbow bustle
in a swirling rainbow tussle
Caught and frozen, broken sheen
now unites for one brief scene

Lonely in the dark I grope
the key's in my kaleidoscope

Confused faces change their places
take up stances, exchange glances
Lost in multicoloured hues
there is no whole which I can choose

Lonely in the dark I grope
the key's in my kaleidoscope

In one face, one moment's fusion
Realise the new illusion
Clutching fingers break the puzzle
jostle, hassle, elbow bustle

Still out in the dark I grope
the key's in my kaleidoscope

Procol Harum: Kaleidoscope