Why bother fixing anything? The minute you're done fixing it, it starts the process of breaking down again.

Oh go back to The Garden of Eden then, Adam.   Humans do not like perfection, I guess.

Of war and peace the truth just twists Its curfew gull just glides Upon four-legged forest clouds The cowboy angel rides With his candle lit into the sun Though its glow is waxed in black All except when 'neath the trees of Eden The lamppost stands with folded arms Its iron claws attached To curbs 'neath holes where babies wail Though it shadows metal badge All and all can only fall With a crashing but meaningless blow No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden The savage soldier sticks his head in sand And then complains Unto the shoeless hunter who's gone deaf But still remains Upon the beach where hound dogs bay At ships with tattooed sails Heading for the Gates of Eden With a time-rusted compass blade Aladdin and his lamp Sits with Utopian hermit monks Side saddle on the Golden Calf And on their promises of paradise You will not hear a laugh All except inside the Gates of Eden Relationships of ownership They whisper in the wings To those condemned to act accordingly And wait for succeeding kings And I try to harmonize with songs The lonesome sparrow sings There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden The motorcycle black Madonna Two-wheeled gypsy queen And her silver-studded phantom cause The gray flannel dwarf to scream As he weeps to wicked birds of prey Who pick up on his bread crumb sins And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden The kingdoms of experience In the precious wind they rot While paupers change possessions Each one wishing for what the other has got And the princess and the prince Discuss what's real and what is not It doesn't matter inside the Gates of Eden The foreign sun, it squints upon A bed that is never mine As friends and other strangers From their fates try to resign Leaving men wholly, totally free To do anything they wish to do but die And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden At dawn my lover comes to me And tells me of her dreams With no attempts to shovel the glimpse Into the ditch of what each one means At times I think there are no words But these to tell what's true And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden Songwriters: BOB DYLAN

True.....very true.