I've spent slews of hours on a "change" that never comes, with minute chances of finding light or in the end thrown in the dark. Moving from box to box, collecting pictures and memories; setting every bridge I took to get here aflame. If I had my druthers I'd take a hammer to every wall that was built and throw it in the fire. It's been seven years stuck in speculation; clouting my well-being. Maybe I would concur if it wasn't shoved down my throat. Inept at keeping up with the pace compelling my digression. Living the same day, only put in a naive optimistic way. Even if the ends met in full circle, I'd still find myself staring into the dark, taunted by the shadows and the pendulum that makes this "relevant." But it's all irrelevant. We're mounted statues with carved faces of confusion; built towards the sky with no answers only an ambiguous marking of why. We will forever be lost in these figure eight aspirations. So I set this house aflame in hopes of a new perspective. Throw it all in the fucking fire. Let this house burn.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
