eight more months
i am at the apocalypse of a false entity of a blue plastic society there's nothing left but whiskey flavored sobriety who says essence precodes existance my brain in its worthless resistance there's too much thought and hatred that no one forgets
sickening realization unduced with much trepidation there is no deity to aspire nothing in this lie was ever true.
alone, aloof, smokers of a hallow cigarette numbingly empty wrath of the lonely there is no more nicotine and no more firewood only this sleepless machine.
sickening realization unduced with much trepidation there is no deity to aspire nothing in this lie was ever true.
alone, aloof, smokers of a hallow cigarette numbingly empty wrath of the lonely there is no more nicotine and no more firewood only this sleepless machine.