Pixies
Where Is My Mind

That the song is magnificent everyone will know, that it marked an era the same, that it is the final song of "Fight Club" as well, but what other people do not know, or at least pretend not to know, is that this song is inspired by what drugs do to humans. "Where is My Mind" has an original text that at first glance might mean nothing, but it is precisely in this nothingness that the secret lies, not being anything, the non-evolution, remaining frozen in a stage subordinate to reality and living each day as it comes, repeating the same things without realizing that time passes and we become men.

Everything that happens on the streets. . . . we are the product of what we see, and for this reason we are often not anything interesting and nothing interests us anymore, there is never a meaning behind what hides in our most intimate thought, we are bare like autumn trees, we are nothing of what we would like to be and we do nothing to improve, we always wait for some greater force to push us into some adventure, only to come out tired and scared but with one more thing to tell, perhaps no one should see the things I have seen, no one should feel what I feel, when you feel immobile in bed exhausted unable to move, and the ghosts of the past come to visit, perhaps it’s the first ray of madness. . . I think. . . then under the effect of yet another cigarette, we travel through people's conversations, the images that quickly run through your head, the scenes that slowly create in your mind only to destroy a few moments later. Sometimes I wonder where my reason has gone and if it's worth it, and the constant pain inside me eats away at my thoughts and I can only think of what is happening to me, my face always takes on strange resemblances and I no longer recognize myself, and I no longer recognize even the people in their daily lives, I don’t know what they want from me, I only know they want something that I cannot give them.

I don't think the evening is made for walking, I return home by bus and look at the faces of the people, and each of them tells me something about their life, and they are only horrific images of suffering, both from the past and the near future. The darkness reflects on my mood and sadness envelops me, cursed winter, the night falls at 4:30 PM and depression ten minutes later, no one understands me, but that's okay, what do you expect, fish in these waters if you fish in this sea, and all the evil that touches me I have to use as the driving force of my body. Only with my music player do I try not to think about the continuous failures of a reality that does not belong to me, I haven't opened my eyes yet, but at least I try to do so, perhaps I should leave all this, run away but it would be useless, thoughts would follow me even to the ends of the earth, so I smile at people and continue living the life of an Italian. In the morning when I wake up I feel lonely and breathless I prepare myself for more failures, more oppressions, more anxieties that mix with daily stress, then I sit down and end it all once and for all, my teeth hurt more and more and my eyes are increasingly withered, it is not possible that it happened to me. . .

WHERE IS MY MIND?

from the thoughts of a madman. . . . . . .

editors, please publish this review because I never make a draft: (and then I'm crazy. . . . . nowadays it happens. . . . . a bit to everyone)