Common People

Yes, there are nods in my direction, but still I'll never get it right. Alone in this hotel room, barely 1km from where Jim Morrison lies in eternal sleep, watching roaches climb the wall, I know that I'll never fail to be like the common people, dancing and drinking and screwing, because there's nothing else to do. Sometimes I sing along, even laugh along, even though they are laughing at me. Feeding on the spawn of other people's puerile existence. To be honest, I'm amazed that they even bother to exist, as they do not burn particularly brightly, before fizzling out without causing so much as a squidgeon of impact on this world around us. I can only wonder why. I'll never watch my life slide out of view... it hasn't happened yet, in any case.