Feeling New YorknBrush through my hairnWe fall for East VillagenBut we're insincere.nAren't we. Aren’t we.nnFor we find no meaningnIn this post-modern scenenThey thought times were a changingnBut now that's somenHippie dream. Hippie dream.nnAnd I'm watching Orion reach out from the shorenI hate his still hourglass for shiftingnAfter I'm gone.n'Cause time sticks to me, leaves me dead on the floor.nMy grave set among many,nA boy lost in the belly of the world.nnDid it ever seem strangenWhen we would say, hey,nLife ain't worth living.n'Cause we know thatnDeath leads to zerosnOr infinitiesnAnd that's scarynSimple but scary, simple but scarynAin't that contrary,nThen life is the party.nIt is.nnEveryone knowsnThese fake hipsters knownIt's like St. George is herenBut their dragons just want to keep sleeping.nSaw Ginsberg beset in the corner marketnWe can't face our death so wencan't mine our lives of meaning.nnAnd I'm watching Orion reach out from the shorenI hate his still hourglass for shiftingnAfter I'm gone.n'Cause time sticks to me, leaves me dead on the floor.nMy grave set among many,nA boy lost in the belly of the world.nnDoes it ever seem strangenThat we keep laughing and it never gets boringnKeep on the laughing, the crying, the screamingnAnd it never gets boringnWhen we're stuck in the feeling,nA bit all-consuming,nAnd in that there's meaningnThere's all the meaningnThere's all my meaningnnFor I am the rapture, I am the reaper, I am the ether,nAnd I'm the seer. For I am the ether, I am the ether,nAnd there is no time.nnFeeling New YorknBrush through my hairnWe fall for East VillagenBut we're insincere.nAren't we. Aren't we.