I don’t know what you know,
I only know what I’ve been told;
I don’t know just when this thing started,
I only know it’s getting old.
I don’t know where we’re going
(barely remember where we’ve been),
but I can tell which way the wind is blowing.
Look to your valuables, my friend.
They say it’s just the times, but I don’t know;
just saying it don’t ever make it so.
I don’t know how you get through it –
probably much the same as me;
and I don’t know, sometimes I just say screw it.
Could be that’s how it ends, maybe.
I don’t know about your sense of humor,
but I know we’re in this together;
I don’t know sometimes to laugh or cry –
what can you do about the weather?
They say the world’s run out of gas;
just wishing it don’t make it come to pass.
I don’t know what you know;
or if I think it’s worth your thinking.
I don’t know if we can get along,
it all depends on what we’re drinking.
I don’t know where we’re headed;
could be salvation, or destruction.
In either case, we both may have to face
a whole new method of instruction.
They say the end is near, my brother;
not much you can do about it, one way or the other.
What is this? This is bliss:
letting go of letting go.
What is this? This is bliss:
both of us admitting we don’t know.
13 MAY 2011
