Escape My Mind

Ethics is death, aesthetics life
To you who speak of moving forward
I say you run in a mouse's wheel
Until you break out, you have nothing

And Marx there is no progress
And Hegel there is no discussion
And Nietzsche: "The Uber-man is dead,"
"We have killed him"

No eternal recurrence,
No Russian Christ
No moral to this tale
Only what you can touch and feel

You philosophers, break out of your minds
Break out of your closet rooms
And run the streets wild
There's nothing left to think, only the sun on your skin
And no light in your eyes, but reflected off the parked cars
O furious! O confine me not!