White Dot - Peter Hammill

Nothing is like anything else

Everything’s the same

Our progress punctuated

By a series of coincidence

To form a logical chain

Nothing is like everything else

Like anything you name

Pomposity unpunctured

We’re approaching a velocity

Of escape from our mortal frames

So nothing is like anything else

So everything’s designed

We’re utterly dependent on

Our self-deluding sense of what we’ve done

And what we’ll do if we have time

With nothing else in mind

A time to think is now at a premium

You show bare inkling of a vital sign

Though in the pink

In every outward appearance

Inside it’s white dot time

Oh, nothing comes to mind

So nothing comes to mind

Does nothing come to mind

When you’re finally mindful of nothing?