I am talking to an invisible audience
that doesn't want to listen to me applaud myself
This is like writing about death and sleep
and dreary days and shining sun and towering trees
I know I was conscious of other peoples thoughts
They told me I was crazy but I am not
Most people hear voices, that's true
My psychiatrist hears voices too.
Who are they and what do they hear,
You cannot send numbers
You cannot send names
The astral world has endless games.
The ethereal reaalms hold our bodies
Some people think that if you cause harm you do that in the afterlife
without permission you go to hell
sometimes if its just impossible you will as well
I feel rather bad about the people I beam,
I know my thoughts caan be low and mean,
I wish for forgiveness from all who hear
Until a better veil appears.
