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[25 Aug 2010|12:15am] |
questions. requests. comments. drop box.
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[05 Oct 2009|12:34pm] |
 There's nothing left for me to do, just like time and time and time again. What else is left for me to prove? But when it comes around, I can't help falling down. Is this the state of so-called pleasure? Or just the weight of stones and feathers? I'm not myself, maybe I'm never. Just like tear that fades away, just like a word I can't express or can't explain. A thousand voices in my brain. I wish they'd comfort me - instead it's torturing. Is this the state of so-called pleasure? Or just the way I'm made to measure? I'm not myself, maybe I'm never. When all is said and done, I confess I've had enough. Is this the state of so-called pleasure? Or just a chill that lasts forever? I'm not myself maybe I'm never. Is this the state of so-called pleasure? Or just a break in heavy weather? I'm not myself, maybe I'm never.
STONES & FEATHERS
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