Acda and De Munnik
Miscellaneous
The Word Is On
Ah, there come the voices of the drink, they are not a burden
even welcome.
They rarely come every week and really not one that can count further than 10.
No, then the voice of patience, so clever to go through your knees.
But from the height to which I protect myself she is often barely audible.
And in the back, the voices of ambition, angry, because her second plan is just moving.
They are still shouting, but you know that you don't hear it from a child's voice. You can win. The voices of addiction, oh so many, but just no drugs or booze. Well, nicotine, sex machine, making money, until even I am frightened by the stench.
And just hear the voices of criticism, always at the front of the highest word
which means voices that do the same but outside, nothing new or painful is heard. The voices of delight are dear to me, they always fight with the voices of haste. But I can't always listen from when we once and remember
and last.
The voices of delight are my photos and films that I forget. Sometimes
a story comes from the skik when I drove from Moheb to Provo.
The word belongs to the voices of the drink, the word belongs to the voices
of criticism, the word belongs to the voices of ambition, but the voice of the addictive music. The word belongs to the voices of patience, delight that was in the word. It is pressure in the head, very beautiful, so I trust the chill in it.
I have it again every now and then, so quiet.
And it is always swinging, always things, the silence of sadness.
The word is on, the word is on.....the voices in my head.
Ah ha ha ha ah ha ha......

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