It goes on and on.
It goes on and on and my head is full of cobwebs and dirt and tangled strings and i don't know what to do or how to escape. No books or movies help, music helps for a while and that's it, basically. What should i do? Do i even know what i feel is real or just a stupid shitty, childish phase? I don't feel the need to go, to meet, i just want to smash things, take drugs, fuck and sleep. Then retch and repeat. There's ACTA and Maria Czubaszek and women's rights and gay rights and this little backwater of country and new things and it all matters, but i'm just a fly on the wall and i have no clue. So i drink bad wine and smoke and type. Life has no meaning and it should be consoling, but righ now it's just a sad fact. Does love even exist?!
And so it is, just the way you said it would be...
And so it is, just the way you said it would be...
Click to view