I used to be a prophet. I bulshitted alot. I was happy and interesting. I had followers :)
And then my prophecy ate me alive. Like one "kargadan e zeaht". So now I am quiet, because I'm in the belly of oon "kargadan e zeaht". Nobody hears me. You shouldn't either.
Goodnite Son, no stories tonight. I think my piano has been drinking alot for one night. And I'm lost at the bottom of the world.
Goodnite Son, no stories tonight, but you know, as your father, I'm telling you, we'll meet again.
We always meet twice. Maybe in another life.
P.S. January 17th, 1912; To My Widow; ...
P.S.S. This link was broken; I fixed it.