Everybody's dyin'. Already bored of just livin'. It's not enough. My friends were eaten slowly alive. Somewhere it's Christmas all the time. Sorry. Everybody's sorry.
Old boys. Waiting. Two Wrongs. Fading. Matic. Born Old. Hoodwinked. Gallowed. Convinced. Undo. Unmake. Engaged. Too many friends. The revolution may be ill-advised.
New skies will find us. It seems the worst is behind us. Clouds once filled with rain now separate, and start to make way. Gone is the gray. The end of the thunder.
Wrestling the days since the staff crept away,. Sorta sleeping awake and just waiting, waiting,. I'm just going to wait 'til they say it's okay to ring that bell again..
Holding court at club meds. Swore you'd never be, never be, never be, holding back again. The world of make believe, make believe, make believe's so much better than friends.
All the everything pulled me inside. Like a house in a land-slide, or a TV glow. There in the thick of it, as I reeled in the light,. I was drowned in the happenstance that all this information would leave me.
The disengagement of the bubble is hypnotizing.. Some say below the doughy crust the beast is rising.. We like to talk about the past. We like to talk about the past.