What do you do when you find yourself standing Or maybe sitting, or kicked back with a cigarette Among the smoking wreckage of institutions The institutions that framed our actions and thoughts
Existentialism is inadequate After all, we did not create ourselves Each of us is an outward-looking I A dependent center of reactions
But the unities upon which we depended Have failed and collapsed upon themselves Leaving us alone and stunned on an ashen plain Alone and stunned and sorting out the pieces
And we can only sort them, not create them For we are not God This is all a mystery