Some kind of friction has scarred me, but created you a new style.
My reasons to endure used to be based around whom you were and your brilliant passion that could blaze right through me in front of family and perfect strangers.
This is my downfall - my blemish and I've been told before.
Quit holding on to what he was.
He doesn't even recognize you or himself anymore.
Heís stuck in the process of embracing what crumbles,
and when it happens there will be no apologies.
He chose to collapse what held him, and if not cautious there may never be a cradle to soften this descent, like clouds.
New shapes are taken, but they're not always actual, they're never tangible. It's so brutal to look in the mirror and see someone give it all up for nothing, and having no power to stop them.
But chaos brings order to this life.
Who will you allow me to go on blindly until the end?
Itís like being a stupid and worthless little boy in a stupid crush.
We all sing glory but we all choke ourselves with our own ignorance.
There is so much more to life than my stupid desires.
Nothing is everything, and everything is something.
Finding the meaning is looking through the vivid transparencies.
This dull feeling is working through me, and every waking moment is more static.
As I step onto my porch of reflection, a brief wind of warmth is swept through me.
We succeed in order to bring forth order in our lives.
You have all felt it - the emptiness of being alone.
Drugs will not cure it; human touch will not solve it.
This black, cold world is potent.
Tremors of anguish ripple through visions and dreams.
Do I dare question it?