Speaking of Robots

I wonder when I won't be tired.
It's been like this since 1996.
Maybe it's worry.
Maybe it's want.

I'd like to move to the mountains.
Just to tear them down with tears.
Sleep for twenty-three and a half years.
Then wake up and get brunch with a beautiful woman.

If brunch still exists.
In that fiery-eyed future.
When our bodies are probably.
Lowercase rivers running round the bend.

Only one thing left to say then.
I am so confused.
Is jumping off a lizard mountain.
A cartoon thing to do?

Let's be lovely and tired.
And look at the understanding.
Like a foreign language no more.
And allow the future to forget us happily.