Bill Hicks:
Is there a point to my act? I would say there is... the world is like a ride at an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it you think it's real - because that's how powerful our minds are. and the ride goes up and down and round and round, it has thrills and chills and it's very brightly colored and it's very loud. and it's fun, for a while...

Jack Wilson:
I saw the symbol for Eternity in my reflected iris
wrote the scribble on my person like a scribe against papyrus
floated in an open ocean, caught a wave and tried to ride it
but with no horizon in sight, I decided I'm an island
like no man-made contraption can hold me - I'm only passing through
become the master of your fate, or else your fate will master you
creating such a natural disaster that you have to ask
an everlasting past if you were cast from different plaster.
Since the mass has shifted, and the graphs is wicked out of whack
the grass is twisted while the raw data gets gathered and spit back
on some "take what you can't take" crackling your speakers for
Existing in these waves of sound, we found we never needed form
Heed the language of the wind, or drown within the season's storm
where Nature's every exhale mimics breathing, and the breeze is warm
It makes you need to question peoples' place in floating pebble schemes
my modus operandi? flowing into open mental streams
re-wiring connectable electrical receptors
to accept extraterrestrial messages via dental feeds
(in your teeth. like real deep - like, from where we speak)

Bill Hicks:
Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question - is this real? or is this just a ride? And other people have remembered - they come back to us and they say "hey! don't worry, don't be afraid, ever - because this is just a ride."

Jack Wilson:
They say a dream is just a dream (or so it seems when we are sleeping)
though the mixture gets legit when seams are split and bits are creeping
Scenes are painted on our brain-walls by the spray cans of the Daywatch
over-coated with a layer wash invisible to the brainwashed
For some of us, it soaks beneath the broken oblongata
into friendly waters, rowing toward a well-equipped armada
where the fellowships are sturdy, and the uniform insignia
matches on all the jackets as it's stitched in the amygdala
A system that's convincing ya' to life aboard a vessel
fighting for a bigger battlefield for scattered thoughts to wrestle
While they're splattered 'cross the atmosphere, they seem to never stick
so if you're in a sinking ship, we'd better dream together quick!
I didn't mean to make this happen, something's pumping in my pistons
got me standing on a higher platform rapping, while some listen
with no pious plans, or biased scams - I only wanna try my hand
at flying over land, like I can in my visions
(in my sleep. like real deep - like, from where I creep)

Bill Hicks:
This is/has to be real.
It's just a ride.