Fleeting are the days until I am gone. Yet so often wrong, I wonder if I was ever here. The fear of losing it all as just an imagining of a person, of a time. Of a place, of a life. Pure truth is unknowable. It's damn near a fallacy. As such, it is unresolved, incurable malady. But the dread and the dreaming and the bleakness in the screaming. It never fucking ends. Broken by that which never bends. One always sees himself a present man. One's never close enough to nothingness. Once, can't get close enough to understand. Once, can't experience beyond themselves. These are nothing but walls. Limitations driving existential discontent. You will be nothing when they fall. There is no place to ease your trembling.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.