this world is not.

my illusions are delusions in my mind.
my illusions are delusions in my mind.
my delusions are illusions in my mind
because this world is not mine.
this world is not mine.
this world is not mine.
this world is not mine.

everything i say is self-reflected and projected.
everything’s self-reflected and projected.
when i say you, i mean me.
when i say them, i mean me.
when i say anything, i mean me.
so that i may sound self-righteous,
but am just as guilty and as selfish
as everybody, i’m just willing to admit it,
and not say something, like it’s instinct
for survival in this dog eat dog world,
a defense mechanism.
no, i’m just plain selfish.
don’t water it down. pretend to be noble.
was ghandi selfless? che? jesus?
or did they like the admiration and the feeling of martydom?
do you like the admiration and the feeling of martydom?

so i get stuck on semantics to assure understanding
that one speaks clearly, avoiding sounding or being pretty.
much more concerned with meaning, roaming with ideas and notions
in an ocean of my own creation. for mexicans
looking towards revolution, looking towards cuba.
wearing che guevara on you, i wore dickies too,
and gangsta i was not, so stop fronting a revolution
you’re not, living. for mexicans looking towards revolution,
look towards mexico because the aims
of the revolution have still not been achieved,
and mexico for all intents and purposes is still
a postrevolutionary state. look towards
chiapas, guerrerro, oaxaca, el pri, prd, murdered colosio,
move to mexico if you’re that hard core.
your revolution’s intellectual, already dead,
i need one living with a heart still beating.

will i find my island to sink in,
understanding the final meaning
i don’t belong here,
but don’t know anyone that does.

in any second the whole world will be
just an ancient memory slowly slipping
from fingertips into flashing blank expressions
of hope. in any second the whole world will be
just an ancient memory slowly slipping
from fingertips into flashing blank expressions
of hope. in any second the whole world will be
just an ancient memory slowly slipping
from fingertips into flashing blank expressions
of hope.

this is some kind of experiment.
this is some kind of experiment.
this is some kind of experiment.
this is some kind of experiment.
this is some kind of experiment.
this is some kind of experiment.
this is some kind of experiment.

07.21.03.