NOTHING REALLY ENDS

As predicted...

I lie in the bed, a bed, just another bed. Disoriented.
The ceiling is white i think -like most ceilings-. although I m not sure as it s night and the UNSET alamclock flickers an unsetttling red glow in the room bringing me in a trance like state of mind.
Caught between dusk and dawn, I pressed PLAY on 'Nothing really ends' from Deus

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lO_SwOEjO_o&mode=related&search=

I become the song I hum along.

Tom Sings;
'The plan it wasn't much of a plan
I just started walking
I had enough of this old town
'had nothing else to do
It was one of those nights
you wonder how nobody died
we started talking
You didn't come here to have fun
you said: "well I just came for you"
...

In the hills.
The dirt on the dusty paved road leaves red powder on my boots and pants.
An unknown man, I call him Peter Pan, leads the way.
I feel I know him from somewhere, but then again, I have seen so much tv...that I probably have.

the song continues.
Tom Sings;

'And touch we touched the soul
the very soul, the soul of what we were then
With the old schemes of shattered dreams
lying on the floor
You looked at me
no more than sympathy
my lies you have heard them
My stories you have laughed with
my clothes you have torn'
...
Do you feel the same
Do i have a chance
Of doing that old dance again
Is it too late
For some of that romance again
Let's go away
We'll never have the chance again
...

Along the way, colors shift. From red hills, brownish trees to a rainforesty green.
The smells blend in with one another, morning glory blossoms with a hint of skunk.
Dawn has gone; the mist lifts as the sun hits the sky hard.
In Awe of the splendor, I wander and wonder..
The stranger is still in front of me, I have to keep up.
He looks back at times with a polite smile, checks if I m still there.
I am, for now.
The silence is intercut by small talk that ends where it begins.
This time, the silence says nothing. Sometimes it does.

I think we are lost. But I don't mind, for now.
I try to enjoy the moment, But then the mind wont seem to let me..
The song takes over.


(Choir sings)
You lost that feeling
You want it again
More than I'm feeling
You'll never get
You've had a go at
All that you know
You lost that feeling
So come down and show


Scattered thoughts shatter to the ground.
I wonder for example what sound a tiny hummingbird would make.
It s RANDOM. As usual.

Suddenly the channel flips.
From Neverland to soap opera.
I am the soap opera I watch. The young and the Restless.
I kill the passion with pore written dialogs and bad acting.
Of course we cut to commercial break:
Where we can buy the 'essential' junk to live the dream and everything in between.
It makes me scream, which brings relief and takes us back to the show.
I m still there, trying to deliver my line:
'Inner peace is overrated', is the line I sell myself convincingly.

I wandered off for a moment, and for a split second I was there. I saw a glimpse.
But then I snap back to the ceiling.
It s definitely white. Of course it is, all ceilings are.
I turn off the disturbing red flickering that tells a RANDOM time.
I close my eyes, and imagine the sound of nighttime crickets turning into daytime birds.
As I get used to the dark, the dark becomes light.
The moment is gone.
The smell of skunk lingers in the room, but that, I don't mind.

Tom Sings;

Don't say goodbye
let accusations fly
like in that movie
You know the one where Martin Sheen
waves his arm to the girl on the street
I once told a friend
that nothing really ends
no one can prove it
So I'm asking you now
could it possibly be
that you still love me?
And do you feel the same
Do I have a chance
of doing that old dance again
Is it too late for some of that romance again
Let's go away, we'll never have the chance again
I take it all from you...
-the backing vocals go at it-....

I help out the backing vocals as the song fades away.
'Nothing really ends' ends.
I want to hit REPEAT, but I dont, because that s something you don't do with songs you like.

Instead, I watch the paint-by-numbers portrait of Mr.Iglesias on the wall and admire the eye for detail by the artist.

I need some more sheep or towns to count.