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'webstream' revisited

it dawns on me that the caps were killed by a new medium that understood the lack of structure in peoples' minds helplessly hoping for something new helplessly lost in the din of the same old thing being said over and over and over again in new and different ways

helplessly hoping was the song i was trying to remember that last night we stepped into reality knowing neil would carry the show to the next level of magic for the new year the new decade the new millennium the new medium and david was just happy to have survived and the spirit of the old days was the spirit of the new ways to say the same thing over and over and over again

not disappointed but who appointed me anyway to speak for a mass of people i don't really know and the mass of hopes left to grow stale in the moonlight last night last sight he was running away with a link in his hand a link that could make a stand as crowds cheer in a dirty alley where hookers and hawkers peddle their wares staring into dead darkness with nothing going on but the throng of songs embedded in our heads staying there reminding us of what we've seen until we're dead with nothing left to say but i wish it would last just one more day

so i speak and my soul leaks onto the tired pavement where we all met that night to share our inner thoughts with all the strangers we've never seen except in dreams of schemes of using them for our own selfish gain replacing the pain of true emptiness

the color of my web is not orange as if that matters and the limited colors we can safely use is enough to amuse boring people looking for excitement in places run by the man who stands aside watching us bask in the glory he created for his own whim it's him we should be watching out for even though he owns the store we go to every day trying to deal with the hunger and lack of warmth that makes us human

we buy we try we fly to new places which look just like where we came from and offer no new answers click fast don't stay don't read don't play just keep moving on to the next pointless wealth of information that we don't really care about anyway we're so cool for fools we're so empty that we're always longing to be full

whining is so easy but it really don't please me let me out now before i explode

helplessly hoping to free myself of this load helplessly grabbing for the next winning number in the stream of addiction the next spinning thunder in the noise of the same old thing over and over and over again

getting lost on the web is all i live for now getting lost on the web is my fate getting lost on the web is a sign it's too late

getting lost is the real deal


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