I need to get away from all this. I can't escape.
Where would I go?
I need to get away from me,
because I remain.
A sad remainder of glorious things
I am a falling apart.
And I can't. I have to be for them.
Not strong, but be.
A custodian of an abandoned museum
No one will visit
See these precious exhibits?
We opened our doors late
The curator is missing
and can't be found
We call for her in the vacuous halls,
The echoes loose dust on priceless pictures,
But no one cares for the arts anymore.
They only like music and paintings and sculptures.
The anti-theatre is dead...
I can't listen to Bob Dylan.
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