made a life grasping at straws (ohwhatdoesitmeanwhat doesitmeanwhatdoesit meanwhatdoesitmean?!!), stripping apart the wonderful melodies, riffs, curious vocal stylings, rhythms, poetic
sucks to be a kid on a hurricane halloween, where putting on the costume to trick or treat really doesn’t make much sense, because along with the whole getup,
so fragile we are--- broken eggshells on the pavement, split ends tearing, puzzle pieces scattered all over the place with no one qualified enough to put them together, selves upon selves
s/he can’t remember now just when they diagnosed him/her, but the mark has been made--- doesn’t wash off in the shower, doesn’t go when s/he drifts off to sleep,
the best way to the heart is through friendship & though it may be known, it seems to be hardly acted upon, in a fast paced, neon lit extravaganza, the one track minded motivation seems