power to the people.
the weather underground.
the streets belong to the people.
the police are the most brutal, internal army.
i don't know what to do.
we had to do something. we were all guilty. and inaction was the worst crime.
whatever it takes. whatever means necessary.
bombs in the heart of the robot.
bombs in the heart of the machine.
desperate to feel human connection.
such a strange, disconnected feeling.
this is revolution.
say hello to your prozac popping revolutionaries.
but still- i find hope in burning buildings, graffiti, and pipe bombs.
i steal because fuck jail. i feel because i believe in love.
and i still don't know why.
i believe in music because i don't know why.
i believe in myself, simply because it's the only thing i've got.
small, untalented, and hopeless as i may be.
i will be true to me?
(i just don't know anything at all)
i feel really alone right now.
whereareyoui'mfeelingsoclaustrophobicbutidon'tthinkiwanttobealoneijustdn'tknowwhatiwantatallandidon'tfeellikerevolutionispossiblebecausethingsaresohopelesssometimesandidon'tbelieveinmyselfi'mfullofshitandidon'twritebeautifulthingsorsaybeautifulwordsallidoistrymybesttolookgoodandfashionableanditgetsmenothingandnowherei'mjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanother
just another dream that nobody has the heart to crush.
i guess i get an A for effort, huh?
no. no, i don't think i do.
this will pass, this will pass, everything passes into something better.
this can't last forever.
so let's just hope that i hold out longer than these bad thoughts and hopeless feelings.
i don't know where this entry started, but i'm ending it on a prayer.
please: give me air for my lungs when i start to drown.
please: don't let me down.
brandon.
the streets belong to the people.
the police are the most brutal, internal army.
i don't know what to do.
we had to do something. we were all guilty. and inaction was the worst crime.
whatever it takes. whatever means necessary.
bombs in the heart of the robot.
bombs in the heart of the machine.
desperate to feel human connection.
such a strange, disconnected feeling.
this is revolution.
say hello to your prozac popping revolutionaries.
but still- i find hope in burning buildings, graffiti, and pipe bombs.
i steal because fuck jail. i feel because i believe in love.
and i still don't know why.
i believe in music because i don't know why.
i believe in myself, simply because it's the only thing i've got.
small, untalented, and hopeless as i may be.
i will be true to me?
(i just don't know anything at all)
i feel really alone right now.
whereareyoui'mfeelingsoclaustrophobicbutidon'tthinkiwanttobealoneijustdn'tknowwhatiwantatallandidon'tfeellikerevolutionispossiblebecausethingsaresohopelesssometimesandidon'tbelieveinmyselfi'mfullofshitandidon'twritebeautifulthingsorsaybeautifulwordsallidoistrymybesttolookgoodandfashionableanditgetsmenothingandnowherei'mjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanotherjustanother
just another dream that nobody has the heart to crush.
i guess i get an A for effort, huh?
no. no, i don't think i do.
this will pass, this will pass, everything passes into something better.
this can't last forever.
so let's just hope that i hold out longer than these bad thoughts and hopeless feelings.
i don't know where this entry started, but i'm ending it on a prayer.
please: give me air for my lungs when i start to drown.
please: don't let me down.
brandon.