Simple physics, a cinch, the tock-tick of it all;
Though they haven’t a clue to the trick of it all.
Light cones. The über-timeline. The multiverse. No strings.
Theorizing the cosmologic of it all.
Construct dream castles in the air, but do not move in.
Come down to earth, the mortar and brick of it all.
The ontology of Being with a capital “B”
or a small “b.” The dialectic of it all.
Turn on. Tune in. Drop out. Sex and drugs and rock ‘n roll…
There’s no escaping the dead and the quick of it all.
Let’s look deep into each other’s eyes, initiate
our intimate connection. The orgasmic of it all.
And let’s raise our half-full glasses and toast the other half;
Delight in the pointless, gorgeous music of it all.