What?

Hey man, what's on my mind is that I need to grow up, need to stop worrying about gettin paid, take my mind off my money and my money off my mind, need to stop talkin so much, talkin so much jive, and you dig, you know. everywhere i look is jive. I look up, look down, look left and right, i find even inside the only one i know, jive. somewhere i got my lines crossed, somewhere i got my soul tied up, somewhere i got hungry for some food i ain't had yet, somewhere i got born again, and somewhere i died. now i see it, i smell it, i wade around in the deep cespool of used up lies and alibis, lookin for the way back, lookin for the way out, lookin for the bridge across my troubled water. but i be distracted, contracted, and reinacted on the big screen, in a movie scene which i seen a hundred times, yet i go back to the theatre and sit again in the sweat stained easy rider, feet stuck fast by chewed bubble gum and melted skittles, fillin my nose with marmelade dreams and pirate ship schemes, gonna make it to the top of that ladder man, gonna make it as soon as the movie ends. but the movie never ends, it plays on an endless reel, slowly turning the days of my life across the false flourescent light flashing through every frame titled self, me, and I. and i laugh in my sleep because i know that if it wern't for the man who talked no jive, knew no jive and took no jive, this poor sap would wake up soon to find himself in the windswept parking lot of the torn down theatre which the jackals haunt, unable to cry for help for his throat has been dried for centuries and unable to move cause he has no strength left in his bones, and unable to sleep ever again for fear of the firestorm forcasted at one hundred percent.