where the heartache ends and the flowers bloom...
it's time to start making noise. rock and roll. to crash and burn, burst into flames, charge cars head onto into walls, each other, to hold hands and watch our faces fall with the sun. let's figure out how long is too long. what keeps people coming back, where are your smiles, lets get with it.
the universe is billions of years old and in that time i am less than the blink of the fastest eye. what the fuck makes me so special? we're not creations here to serve, we're not even good enough to call a mistake. point a meets point b and i don't even care how either came to be. getting over it, that we're special and unique and serve purpose, is probably difficult. blue pill or red pill. it's where faith takes over through the blood stream.
what is meant to be? what is cheating? what does love really mean? who's there when no one else is? what would happen if everyone went away? would i be thirstier knowing no water existed or if it were there in front of me and being unable to drink it? what if im wrong about god? about me? about you? everything?
and what if none of this matters?
is it okay to pretend as long as you fool yourself too? who draws the line? wheres the goddamned proof?
in some amount of years i will be an entirely different person. i'll be fully comprised of cells i never knew before, as well as full of thoughts and ideas i never knew existed until the very second they come through my stream of consciousness. i'll have different hands and eyes, lashes and teeth. i'll be me but new, will you still be you?
"you're not going through one of those 'what does it all mean?' things, are you?"
"yeah, i guess i am."
there's simply too much to ever figure anything out. just day to day and where the equation equals me is the space i fill, sometimes listlessly, sometimes full of fire and i burn up and someone that loved me will scatter my ashes along the streets i grew up on.
as people, we're probably more addicted to other people than we admit, but we play this addiction down and throw around words like love to cover up for it. it's probably just selfishness that makes someone say 'i miss you'. just a fix, a phonecall too far away. as people we're codependent on each other to fill us with feelings and thoughts. to love, to hold, to miss, to remember in ways that were never really true.
i'm counting down, number by number, cell by cell, minute by minute and everything changes.
maybe i'm a better person somewhere else. maybe we're all.
i'm just disgusted with everything. but that's too simple an excuse.
the universe is billions of years old and in that time i am less than the blink of the fastest eye. what the fuck makes me so special? we're not creations here to serve, we're not even good enough to call a mistake. point a meets point b and i don't even care how either came to be. getting over it, that we're special and unique and serve purpose, is probably difficult. blue pill or red pill. it's where faith takes over through the blood stream.
what is meant to be? what is cheating? what does love really mean? who's there when no one else is? what would happen if everyone went away? would i be thirstier knowing no water existed or if it were there in front of me and being unable to drink it? what if im wrong about god? about me? about you? everything?
and what if none of this matters?
is it okay to pretend as long as you fool yourself too? who draws the line? wheres the goddamned proof?
in some amount of years i will be an entirely different person. i'll be fully comprised of cells i never knew before, as well as full of thoughts and ideas i never knew existed until the very second they come through my stream of consciousness. i'll have different hands and eyes, lashes and teeth. i'll be me but new, will you still be you?
"you're not going through one of those 'what does it all mean?' things, are you?"
"yeah, i guess i am."
there's simply too much to ever figure anything out. just day to day and where the equation equals me is the space i fill, sometimes listlessly, sometimes full of fire and i burn up and someone that loved me will scatter my ashes along the streets i grew up on.
as people, we're probably more addicted to other people than we admit, but we play this addiction down and throw around words like love to cover up for it. it's probably just selfishness that makes someone say 'i miss you'. just a fix, a phonecall too far away. as people we're codependent on each other to fill us with feelings and thoughts. to love, to hold, to miss, to remember in ways that were never really true.
i'm counting down, number by number, cell by cell, minute by minute and everything changes.
maybe i'm a better person somewhere else. maybe we're all.
i'm just disgusted with everything. but that's too simple an excuse.