Well, things seem rather dull when you're impatient, and deep purple when you're indisposed. A dark purple, gathers around the edges of your vision and the sounds sound all far off and metalic.
No one loves a quitter. Not until they've quit.
Then it's useless, don't you think? It's a crazy world. Messed up one. And a wonderful one, but too full of those same clanging cliches and your head hurts while your eyes seem to smoke with pain, but it's all in your head that gets stuck in your chest, leaving everything dark and cold and fragile.
So you mustn't touch it- Musn't make a sound.
Or else it could hurt you. Make you awkward and sad, as if you wern't already.
I feel sick of daylight now, but that's what I need more of. That's what they tell me. They tell me these things, like they tell everyone else. And everyone else has their own stupid excuses. It's all stupid. I can't even do stupid yet. You'd think I'd be glad. It's a cycle of bittersweet irony. Smells discusting when you're in it. You dream about it otherwise...
That's not what I was talking about, but sure. My mind tends to wander where it pleases, either where it is most pleased or where it curls up and dies. Doesn't make sence.
Stupid, stupid human nature.
Or maybe it's just me. You feel alone when things around you go dark- To a dark, deep, black purple.
Feels hollow, and ugly, and stupid.
No one loves a quitter. Not until they've quit.
Then it's useless, don't you think? It's a crazy world. Messed up one. And a wonderful one, but too full of those same clanging cliches and your head hurts while your eyes seem to smoke with pain, but it's all in your head that gets stuck in your chest, leaving everything dark and cold and fragile.
So you mustn't touch it- Musn't make a sound.
Or else it could hurt you. Make you awkward and sad, as if you wern't already.
I feel sick of daylight now, but that's what I need more of. That's what they tell me. They tell me these things, like they tell everyone else. And everyone else has their own stupid excuses. It's all stupid. I can't even do stupid yet. You'd think I'd be glad. It's a cycle of bittersweet irony. Smells discusting when you're in it. You dream about it otherwise...
That's not what I was talking about, but sure. My mind tends to wander where it pleases, either where it is most pleased or where it curls up and dies. Doesn't make sence.
Stupid, stupid human nature.
Or maybe it's just me. You feel alone when things around you go dark- To a dark, deep, black purple.
Feels hollow, and ugly, and stupid.
No comments:
Post a Comment