They'll stone you when you're trying to be so good They'll stone you just like they said they would They'll stone you when you're trying to go home They'll stone you when you're there all alone But I would not feel so all alone Everybody must get stoned
They'll stone you when you're walking on the street They'll stone you when you're trying to keep your seat They'll stone you when your walking on the floor They'll stone you when your walking to the door But I would not feel so all alone Everybody must get stoned
They'll stone you when you're at the breakfast table They'll stone you when you are young and able They'll stone you when you're trying to make a buck They'll stone you and then they'll say good luck But I would not feel so all alone Everybody must get stoned
Well they'll stone you and say that it's the end They'll stone you and then they'll come back again They'll stone you when you're riding in your car They'll stone you when you're playing you guitar Yes but I would not feel so all alone Everybody must get stoned
Well they'll stone you when you are all alone They'll stone you when you are walking home They'll stone you and then say they're all brave They'll stone you when you're send down in your grave But I would not feel so all alone Everybody must get stoned
And oh - I'll be there to comfort you, Build my world of dreams around you I'm so glad that I found you I'll be there with a love that's strong I'll be your strength, I'll keep holding on Yes I will, yes I will
Sometimes the aim for reality feels too unrealistic. Sometimes you have to indulge in sweet distractions, gentle escapes and beautiful illusions to be able to stand this excuse for an existance.
What was once before you, an exciting and mysterious future, is now behind you. Lived, understood, disappointing. You realise you are not special. You have struggled into existence and are now slipping silently out of it. This is everyone's experience. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone's everyone. So you are Adele, Hazel, Claire, Olive... You are Ellen. All her meager sadnesses are yours. All her loneliness. The grey, straw-like hair. Her red, raw hands. It's yours. It is time for you to understand this.
Walk.
As the people who adore stop adoring you, as they die, as they move on, as you shed them, as you shed your beauty, your youth, as the world forgets you, as you recognise your transience, as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one, as you learn there is no-one watching you and there never was, you think only about driving. Not coming from any place. Not arriving any place. Just driving. Counting off time.
On water we have walked like the fearless child What was fastened we've unlocked revealing wondrous wild And in search for confirmation We have jumped into the fire And scrambled with our burning feet through uncontrolled desire
