Some days when it’s just me and Bob, chillin’, I gotta ask him,
“I don’t know, Bob. How can you be so sure? Too many times it just don’t look likely. Some days I just don’t even have the energy to keep holding out. I trust you Bobs, but how can you be so sure?
Y’know Bob, too many people really just don’t care. People never read up, they never just talk and let the ideas whirl, why don’t the peoples ever explore and get to know one another. Why people gotta judge so much, hate each other so much, whys everyone gotta gossip like the dirty news is so satisfying to the soul?
So much gorgeousness, ten hours of solid jammin with a good portion of the 45 000-strong crowd, and then I gotta pick a fight with Groebels’ groupies. We all paid our cash, we all deserved a look, a jam, a piece of the fun at the front. Why didn’t the KKK just take off their blinkers and embrace the poor black guys just looking for a dance and a group chuckle. Why’d they gotta try to keep the world out, by however, even if it means getting the jolly world “escorted” away by agro bouncers.
Why we gotta see the porn of half-dead kids on giant screens before our humanity is kicked into gear to realise? Why don’t we thunder off the stadium’s roofs when the peroxide lady talks to us of telling our president it’s unacceptable. And how can it not be unacceptable that he’s denying the sickness of 5.5 million of his citizens. Why ain’t he out there, stressed, getting himself from door-to-door with what the people gotta hear and what medicines and love they need?
Why’s it the angriest kid who really wants the hugs most badly? Why all those little sweeties gotta be living in that orphanage? Are they really all gonna grow up ok? Bob, I don’t know, you sure I can trust you on this?
Did we ever have humanity Bob? Did we ever really care? Or are each one of us just tryin ta survive however?
Bob, ya think the whiteys are ever gonna realise that our indecent bubble burst and what the reality of that burst means? It don’t have to mean a bad thing, it can rather mean incredible things. So why so many whiteys so scared? So defensive and aggressive? Hand them some love, Bobs.
They’d be cool with a hug from YOU!
Some days I’m just so tired. And I don’t see any of it changing. I see comments to it, but I see no action. I see so little real love. I see people singing to lyrics, and forgetting their meaning while keeping tune. I see the money, it drips through the proposals I’m chasin after, but I see so many layers and so much talking. I don’t see much of it doing what it needs to do. I see it paying my salary, while I play internet water sports.
You ever kinda feel like ya talking, and everyone’s nodding, but there ain’t anybody listening, no matter how high you turn your sound.
Some days, darling Bob, I feel it ain’t true. What ya keep tellin’ me. I feel like I’m gonna feel like this for the rest of time. And my head and my heart ache. And not just for them, but for me too.
So many times I realise I know so little, only my little world, and in my world everyone does just kinda think like me.
And when my world gets shaken, that’s when I come and talk to you, Bob”.
And as for Bob, he just keeps singing it, even though he knows I’m so scared to trust it.
“Hey Bob, how can you be so sure? How do you know that every little thing is gonna be alright?”