The Yanks have colonized our subconscious.

I don't mess around with my subconscious

I hardly recognize what I do well. I just do it.

We choose not randomly each other. We meet only those who already exists in our subconscious.

my subconscious so full it must spill over

I think we all, at one time or another, have been to this impossible place, the enchanted land that exists between our dreams and reality. Most of us are only held there for a moment, long enough to know it feels weird; we then choose one or the other. I was stuck there, unable to move from one to the next. I was swaddled in Xanadu itself, wrapped up in the mysteries of the mind – both the conscious and subconscious simultaneously. It was amazing.

The scientific dictator of tomorrow will set up his whispering machines and subliminal projectors in schools and hospitals (children and the sick are highly suggestible), and in all public places where audiences can be given a preliminary softening up by suggestibility-increasing oratory or rituals.

Since so much of this music bubbled up urgently from my subconsious mind, I'm left to interpret it much like anyone else.

Gaze not too long into the abyss, lest the abyss gaze into thee.

It is amazing, though, what pains your subconscious will undergo in achieve sustainable peace.