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SUNDAY, APRIL 26, 2015
Burnt out landscapes seeking the truth in the modern escape -
with fountains leaking mysterious habbits.
The legend has been put back in space
through travel we'll never return in the pages of time
Looking for answers in blatant faces
There is no reason for burdening the burden that cleans up like an addiction
Leaving prosecutions in the alley on a mattress in a palace in the back of a fantasy.
Begging for more... just a little bit of that... just a little piece of this.
The only thing I believe is sublime because it passes the time after rendezvous of misconception.
I turn my cheek to illusions, but they always look back to me for the conclusion of differentiating ideas
I'm left with nothing to say, offering no meaning but the only meaning I've come here for
And that is to look into the misleading plans of yesterdays promises and wishing upon a better day like today.
I find it hard to go home all alone. It gets depressing sometimes. Nothing makes up than a warm heartache that walks the streets beneath your telephone wire.
Pondering the epidemics of realities, all I want is some education
Please! Feed it to me through a straw, a pipe, a plot fondue, a microbe that can probe my well being.
I turn the page, and there's always another one ready to be turned.
will it be turned? Can I turn away from this overseeing individual column of knowing what perhaps is what to come?
Change the subject fast before it becomes an eye sore.
nobody wants to hear, because everybody already knows, but rub it in as you will like bird shit on my windowsill, its inevitable.
I close my eyes to hear the wind churn
I lean my head to listen to the clock croak
I turn my cheek and I hear a seagull sigh.
Once more on all fours blind and in an invigorating sleep I try to find the attempt to reach the other side of myself...
Water awaits with the dust molding on my shelf.
Ideas losing sense in a sentence of words nothing merely comes into form as I thought it once would.
Wait four years, wait a decade, wait on me.
Spiel on the wheel and take it far out to South Deceit, never knew why, but I liked the name.
I sold my soul to a pack of cigarettes and would never fight for my right to have it back because I know where it all came from.

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