Constantly turning. 1993.

Constantly turning, not going in circles, but crawling forward slowly.

Wishing, but leaving wandering.

Why is it suddenly so muddy?

It should be easy to relax.

It should be easy to take it slow.

It should be fine to have no money.

If I get stuck?

Resume the flow.

Essentially everything is good.

Essentially everything is fine.

So why do I find myself

Questioning, questioning all the time?

‘Cause society seems to have expectations,

From lay-men, authorities, friends and relations.

I do nothing wrong and I take from nobody,

Except now from my Dad and he’s an old sod,

He’s told me for so long I can’t handle money,

He’s given it to me and then keeps it from me.

And then he writes letters,

Compares others to me.

I’m trying dear father,

But you have to free me.

I am taking my rightful inheritance now,

I’ll save it , if I can.

I want to invest it in my dreams come true…

And I have got to stop thinking of just pleasing you.

As it goes I am the luckiest child that I know,

I don’t want to exploit and just take

But the way that I’m living,

I see no place for giving

A victim of mankind’s mistake.

(Quote the bloke in the cafe behind me ” the only reason for business is to make a profit….”)

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