sister do you remember that man in the hat with jellyfish eyes who would visit the flat had business with father and never would bother to answer our questions? i think that he frightened the cat he was a troubled archeologist, trying for tenure he got dissed and his funding went to other projects because his thesis was a flawed mess. i saw him last night in a dream and invented a history for him i saw his whole life story i dont know how, but i saw his boyhood and dont ask me how but i witnessed his future as well he was a strange one, even as a child what we'd now call autistic, was then known as wild he was a problem at st. peters we are told his antics and frequent incidents got old how often he'd offend the priest and mock and demean the archdiases he wouldnt say grace and he wouldnt sing songs somehow he was convinced that his whole existance somehow proved god wrong as a young adult he questiond his beliefs was he a key player or comic relief? his judgment came in middle age he's delivered a list of his faults on a page i see his silohuette as his life unravels a court room is filled and i hear a gavel you'll flip for success but you are a flop your whoring offends every raindrop your sense of direction's severely unsound your indolence implies your imphood this evidence indicates youve come unwound he steps forth to deliver his defence courtroom, i implore you, ladies and gents the first words that emit from his shriviling brain addressed to existence began to complain: in this society i strive to find a philosophy i can proudly claim mine my expedition i try to sustain in this desert of madness a small grain of sane! this site is exhausted, theres no doubt about it ive found the hyrpolyphics indecipherable and my research has proven moot weve run out of coffee, we cant function without it and the assistants are running off with the loot i need no further convincing your honor i winced through his whole testimony- i agree hes a goner. this panel attests unanimously that these lyrics confirm singlehandedly the state of his insanity; how long he's lost humanity. i know what ive described, no one would call pat but his future is even bleaker than that I see a transient drifter easing in and out the sea breeze bar sleazing about with a salvaged cigar between his lips and a shake in his hands and an ache in his hips a crooked hyena in the urban jungle through the barstools he will stumble across to the juke box and curse that his favorite songs arent rehearsed he mumbles some titles under his breath an address, then mentions a woman named beth arcane songs only he'd understand maybe the dreams of an addled old man bruised, buried, brisk and brusque and buckets upon truckloads, upon craters of cliche. wandering the streets with a smell of decay he soul is tethered to this world i'm afraid after others have gone his spirit will stay cant go to hell something's in the way unfinished business unpaid mechanics and unscrubbed dishes he'll haunt the academy agaisnt his choice sometimes students will hear his voice in this society i strive to find a philosophy i can proudly claim mine my expedition i try to sustain in this desert of madness a small grain of sane! this site is exhausted, theres no doubt about it ive found the hyrpolyphics indecipherable and my research has proven moot we've run out of coffee, cant function without it and the assistants are running off with the loot