I actually like the song Three Little Birds. Who wouldn't? Isn't it nice to be told everything will be alright? Wouldn't it be nice just to believe it would all take care of itself and be okay and happy? That's why it's art. It's what we hope for, wish for, maybe even strive for.
What we actually get is lots of hate and killing and fighting and general crap. And we tell ourselves everything's gonna be alright, over and over and over. And hopefully the lie gets us through. And then it is alright for a little while, and that's good because it makes lying to ourselves through the next chunk, or letting our art lie to us, works even better.
We paint ourselves pretty pictures of 'eventually', with white picket fences or yachts or streets of gold or fairies or flying horses or whatever else we need to pretend because we have to have some goal or else we can't keep pretending that there's an award at the end of the path. At the end of the long walk.
Who the heck are we really fooling, anyway?
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