Hair

I wonder if my continuing love of the soundtracks to Hair (two of my favorite CDs for over 7 years!) is a sign of admirable, nonconformist eccentricity, or complete and utter hopelessness.

We starve, look at one another short of breath,
Walking proudly in our winter coats,
Wearing smells from laboratories,
Facing a dying nation of moving paper fantasy,
Listening for the new told lies
With supreme visions of lonely tunes.

Somewhere, inside something, there is a rush of greatness.
Who knows what stands in front of our lives;
I fashion my future on films in space.
Silence tells me secretly everything, everything.

I report, you decide.