3 am sanity
We have built within ourselves our very faculties. Justified it and shattered it whole. I am bounded and strapped to an eternal carousel. The lights, the noise, they plague me. I can do no more than lie 'ere bound and strapped still, and in this haze, ride out eternity.
What are these triffles? Whence comes my realization? Why is this all but a quintessence of dust?
A reality of happy smiles to the fool, but to me a question of hell and in that, hell itself. Each of us is waiting, waiting, but what for?
A soul to love. A Burger on Sheppard. A career of lies. A fortune to die upon. A face to suck.
We are but a black comedy of error and terror, on tour and losing profit and dignity. I cannot continue longer this quest for love, success and other rewards we grant ourselves to feel full. What is this inner'd conflict which agitates me so? Tis the bind of my mind and the hole in my soul. This gape-ing abyss in my very frame and form. What am I waiting for?
It is said that man fears not death, but the stroke of death. I fear neither. Only this waiting line, this is what kills me so.
My own Psyche. she weeps.
I am ill. I have a fever.
And I can only wish that my prescription is more cowbell.
What are these triffles? Whence comes my realization? Why is this all but a quintessence of dust?
A reality of happy smiles to the fool, but to me a question of hell and in that, hell itself. Each of us is waiting, waiting, but what for?
A soul to love. A Burger on Sheppard. A career of lies. A fortune to die upon. A face to suck.
We are but a black comedy of error and terror, on tour and losing profit and dignity. I cannot continue longer this quest for love, success and other rewards we grant ourselves to feel full. What is this inner'd conflict which agitates me so? Tis the bind of my mind and the hole in my soul. This gape-ing abyss in my very frame and form. What am I waiting for?
It is said that man fears not death, but the stroke of death. I fear neither. Only this waiting line, this is what kills me so.
My own Psyche. she weeps.
I am ill. I have a fever.
And I can only wish that my prescription is more cowbell.