To be young again, in a much, much younger world.

That feeling of perfection, that "nothing could go wrong" feeling is all too soon over.

As we learn to read between the lines we don't like what we see. It frightens us.

The pop songs that influence our emotions are full of misdirection. Yet we still dance to them.

Just when we start enjoying life, reality puts out a leg. Eleven or so years of childhood bliss then wars, stock market crashes, poverty and divorce crash our world. A fruit salad of unsavoury delights dished out to us by our elders and betters.

But it isn't even their fault. They had to struggle through the same crap.

The most frustrating thing about it is that it isn't material. You can't blame it or even relieve your stress out onto it. Progress is flawless in it's bloodless carnage. And you can't make it explain why.

The world is getting older, man smarter. and society more complex. In half a million years of evolution man is no more or less savage, merely more extensive and ruthless in his efforts.

The finger of blame thrust outward, it first must be pointed in an inward direction. Then there is hope for salvation.

We don't have to commit suicide for recognition.

The universe knows we're here.