There's a diner out on Route 322 in western Pennsylvania.
I spent my life there one afternoon.
I can't get that stretch of road out of my head.
I hear it when I'm taking a shower or reading the paper.
I'd look up & see it across the valley.
They tore down the Starlighter down at the end of the road
and built a big Day's Inn that blocks the view
but I know that road's still there.
I can feel it wherever I go, whatever I'm doing.
And it knows that I'm still here.
And it's waiting.
We are abandoned.
Liars own the words & all the pictures in all the museums in the world are just
shell & pea game played by the clever people to bilk the rubes.
Reality is defined by the needs of the media.
History is rewritten faster than it can happen.
Culture is a weapon that's used against us.
Nah, culture is a swampland of superstition, ignorance & abuse.
Geography is a language they can't screw up.
The land & what we add to it cannot lie.
It's also like a mirror.
Reflected we see ourselves or we choose to turn away.