i'm washing strawberries so clean
their juice pours down my hands like blood
i like it as you like your hype
another safer surrogate

i dreamed that dream where all my veins
split open and were bleeding dirt
i never stopped that bleeding cause
i knew there's no rest without hurt

that juice was sweet, that dirt was fake
all signs and wonders were futile
recursive fun that hamsters have
running in wheel another mile

split your own ego, drown in wine,
join the generic game of life,
or maybe strive to reach divine
(to find yourself bored out of your mind)

the road's still lonely, long and dim
and fellow nomads leave your side
and roadsides are not what they seem
and gods are listless, vague and blind.