(no subject)
it's just come to be every friday. a routine.
i hate routines. consistant plans of action.
it smells like children in here and my hair looks a mess.
i've fallen once, so fucking hard, and i can't see it getting any softer. Do you remember listening to music that meant something to you? Do you remember when you cried after that concert? it's not the end. it's not the end. It means more to me. It's pulsing. It's throbbing.
tell me it's not in vain.
i can feel it in my veins.
tell me it's not in vain.
the same old radio station
where everything is feigned
i hate routines. consistant plans of action.
it smells like children in here and my hair looks a mess.
i've fallen once, so fucking hard, and i can't see it getting any softer. Do you remember listening to music that meant something to you? Do you remember when you cried after that concert? it's not the end. it's not the end. It means more to me. It's pulsing. It's throbbing.
tell me it's not in vain.
i can feel it in my veins.
tell me it's not in vain.
the same old radio station
where everything is feigned