Leonard is always right. There is is a crack in everything. That is how the light comes in. I know this, because after a month of what seemed at times like abject darkness, one appeared, crack! in my gnarled old periphery, and now I am being flooded with the stuff.
I look at the future with the eyeballs of a child awaiting Santa. I am hyped. I am going to take a fuckwad of the Bankers' cash, and use it on babans. Peter Doherty, please stop with that druggist nonsense, and spend it on babans. You too Moss, you too McGee, Kelly, Hucknal, Gillespe, you fucking silly hypocrite. Lead us, you have the power!
Me, I had a nice dinner and a whisky and a talking with a man called Mark this evening, after a wonderful and long day of communicating and listening to beats and drawing blobs. And then Luke took me to a sweaty hell hole to watch some muppets regurgitate The Faint and Bloc Party and Atari Teenage Riot, to some pathetic effect, but it was ace cos Luke is. In the autumn he is going to take me to Epping Forrest to amble amongst dead leaves. That's it up there.
When I was little I had no time for such things, and my Mammy said I had no soul. She knew I did really though. I do. My clever brother Marek may not believe in such things, but I think I do. I don't know much, but I know I love you, you people that enriched my life and made me. Buzz buzz pop! go the electrics.
I am going to buy Luke a train set with the Bankers' money. And houses for my benefactors, and computers and schools for the babans. And Marek, my dear clever brother, we are going to have to build an internet for everybody, because Dubya owns this one, or claims to, and I imagine that will be very expensive, but the Bankers have loads of cash and they throw it about like monkeys do excrement.
Darkness is coming. I have been reading about those last days of Rome again, and they're making a mockery of us, with wine bottles up our sisters, and Heat magazine, and GTA, so fun to play... but there is is a crack, and the light is warm, and won't blind us.
I know of late I have given you little but horror, and I have no solutions yet. But do me a favour, dear my peoples. Go here and give these people £15 of your monthly salary. They will do a lot more with it than you will, with your chips and your fags and your porno! They will help babans have lives with it. Forsooth! And if you are scoffing about drops of water in oceans, you at at the back there, remember the wise words of my boy Chris de Burgh:
Every drop of rain Many drops can someday make a river Many rivers roll down to the sea And the sea rolls on forever Forever
Bask in that wisdom, brothers and sisters, and bid me sweet dreams, as I shall you.
The birds they sang at the break of day Start again I heard them say Don't dwell on what has passed away or what is yet to be. Ah the wars they will be fought again The holy dove She will be caught again bought and sold and bought again the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack in everything That's how the light gets in.
We asked for signs the signs were sent: the birth betrayed the marriage spent Yeah the widowhood of every government -- signs for all to see.
I can't run no more with that lawless crowd while the killers in high places say their prayers out loud. But they've summoned, they've summoned up a thundercloud and they're going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring ...
You can add up the parts but you won't have the sum You can strike up the march, there is no drum Every heart, every heart to love will come but like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack, a crack in everything That's how the light gets in.
Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack, a crack in everything That's how the light gets in. That's how the light gets in. That's how the light gets in.