There Are Precious Few...

...cultural environments that favour the genuine development of the true self. There is a secretive spiritual envelope, a sequestered and private asylum, unaffected by external influence, that centres and nourishes the self-sapiential. Cultural settings are uniformly self-conscious enclaves, places where our deepest intuitions run the risk of being deviated into morbidity and excess, enslaved to blinded narcissisms. All culturally driven settings need to be severely critiqued in order that interiority that has been shuffled aside can humbly liberate our un-encrusted helplessnesses.

Thought I knew my mind like the back of my hand The gold and the rainbow, but nothing panned out as I planned They say only milk and honey's gonna make your soul satisfied Well I better learn how to swim Cause the crossing is chilly and wide

Twisted guardrails on the highway, broken glass on the cement A ghost of someone's tragedy How recklessly my time has been spent And they say that it's never too late, but you don't get any younger Well I better learn how to starve the emptiness And feed the hunger

Up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road You can stand there and agonize Till your agony's your heaviest load You'll never fly as the crow flies, get used to a country mile When you're learning to face the path at your pace Every choice is worth your while

And there's always retrospect to light a clearer path Every five years or so I look back on my life And I have a good laugh You start at the top, go full circle round Catch a breeze, take a spill But ending up where I started again makes me wanna stand still

Up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road You can stand there and agonize Till your agony's your heaviest load You'll never fly as the crow flies, get used to a country mile When you're learning to face the path at your pace Every choice is worth your while

Stepping on a crack, breaking up and looking back Every tree limb overhead just seems to sit and wait Until every step you take becomes a twist of fate

Up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road You can stand there and agonize Till your agony's your heaviest load You'll never fly as the crow flies, get used to a country mile When you're learning to face the path at your pace Every choice is worth your while