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shut out, pimpled and angry. i quietly tied all my guts into knots. gave up on trying to make them, i figured it'd take them too long to look up and besides... it was undeniably clear to me i don't know why when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters i knew what worthless dregs we all are then. lucked out and found my favorite records lying in wait at the birmingham mall. the songs the i heard, the occasional book Letras de cancioneswere the only fun i ever took. and i got on with making myself. the trick is just making yourself. but when they're parking their cars on your chest you've still got a view of the summer sky to make it hurt twice when your restless body caves to its whims and suddenly struggles to take flight... three thousand miles north east i left all my friends at the morning bus stop shaking their heads. "what kind of life you dream of? you're allergic to love." yes i know but i must say in my own defense it's been undeniable dear to me, i don't know why when every other part of life seemed locked behind shutters i knew the worthless dregs we are, the selfless, loving saints we are, the melting, sliding dice we've always been. From Letras Mania