Seneca
Everything Is A Memory.
I hate this townAbandoned and aloneWhere everything is a memory and everywhere smells of you(And everything is a memory)Safe haven for self-annihilation.It is all simple damnation when the sky rains nailsStripped and meek, so compassionately guilt ridden, card carrying memberWe got ourselves into this and there's no turning backYour disregards for the feeble pleas are atrocious at bestSuch a gray coldYour eyes will glaze overAnd I often wonder, when do you close your eyes and halt the gears of your mind, and truly be at restHere we go againYou are a symphony, your secret is safe with me
From Letras Mania