If you have a spirit of endurance,
If you don’t mind that creativity
Is stenciled on the walls,
And that everything’s made of plastic,
I find that the airport can be a great spot,
For the on and on and on and on.
If you don’t mind
That the disposables are left
In the wake of the drifters,
Fuel for the everlasting movement,
That never returns.
I find that the airport can be a great spot,
A real sweet spot,
For the on and on and on and on.
If you don’t mind
That the caretakers of flight
Are in keeping
With their best static lie,
It is in keeping with the
On and on and on and on.
That they mimic the stance of
Their imaginary symbols,
The on and on and on and on,
Engulfs my heart tonight.
That these self-made symbols
Whisper
“Everything is worth it”,
With the same tenacity and pomposity
Of a pimple faced girl
Who says
“All is good for me,
I who have no company.”
Then get ready,
For the on and on and on and on.
That the dot on the map finally matters,
I am not concerned.
It is the heart of a nation
That perplexes me most.
Where is it?
The question goes on and on and on.
That those who have returned
From touching the great monoliths,
Dancing to the music of fading cultures,
That once knew life,
Barely feel it in their bones.
As they return with the sound
Of fading gypsies,
Going on and on and on and on.
These people,
Colorless like ghosts,
Convincing themselves,
Life is worth living,
While never feeling alive.
They go on and on and on and on.
And me?
I am on my way.
