everything good never lasts and we all live in the past -reacting to moments flashing behind us we can never catch and if time changes rearranges the figure of our bones the elasticity of this bag of flesh we all grow old acting as objects sold to a cold world that doesn't care to a god we can't see i can't help but question to the very essence of me and it's still all the same so mundane banally predictable but unscriptable because we all know no one really knows what's happening tomorrow so sit and spin in the very spot you begin and end in the same place it's just a matter of falling from grace if grace was ever achieved you're already there and they can't take back what you already own within yourself we all put that book back on the shelf back in its place i can't find where i fit malodorous surroundings constructed of retired shit reused waste this place is a disgrace and they won't catch me alive because i won't become another drone of the hive i won't bend to their rules i won't conform to be their tool i'll break into a million pieces all over the lawn and let the rain wash me away dismal and pale -you're wearing a sign on your forehead, and it reads "for sale".
