Private Number - Dick Diver

Heatstroke, I’m looking at your pictures

From new to old

As you’re becoming less into yourself

And more into the world

It’s an elephant graveyard

And that was 2004

And you were in terrible trouble

Now that’s gone, gone, gone

At first worse things are happening

And the weeks are just counting down

You think that you’ll be different then

And you are, but how?

And each year you think the next

One is the future and then you’re there

A new result you can’t recall

Or just avoid like a private number

And Europe’s fucked, probably

It seems insane

My friends' art needs guarding

End of days

I think I’ve never been better

I’m at the top of my game

I’m living it up for TV dust

And disassemble, you’ve got to disassemble that stuff

Now there’s more light coming from my screen

Than light from outside

I see myself as if from the street

And I turn on the light

And I look at old emails

I have forgotten which

But why am I telling you this?

You are not even here