If you can keep your fucking head when all about you Are motherfucking losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all suckers doubt you, And make no allowance for their dickheaded doubting too; If you can bleeding wait and not be pissed out by waiting, Or being lied about, lie bigger, higher, stronger, Or being hated, teach those cunts to hate you even more, Bitch you can't look too good, nor talk too smart: If you can fucking dream—and make tons of money selling dreams; If you can bloody think—and an beat the competition blue; If you can claims credit for all Triumph and make some cunt take explain Disaster And absolutely don't treat them just the same; If you can hear the frikkin’ truth you’ve spoken And fart a bigger faff to cover your ass, Or watch the things you gave your ...
The message is supreme;
Born in the heart,
and lilting itself
from tongue to tongue,
throwing its scent
over wind and wave;
travelling on dots
or fingers
when blindness
or silence bar its way.
It hews itself into stone
or burns itself onto magnetic discs;
it is the message that lives
and I exist
solely to pass it on.