redwulf

Today I just want to write music and smoke.

And I will.

Working with some lyrics:

To be moving; and then be stuck
is death i've heard. So, how could I
care that your moving on? Millions of stories
are half finished.
There's no time. And, yet you return.
If you only knew
it started before you got here.
You'd see there's a ways to go yet.
If I could somehow make
you understand, you know i'd never hesitate,
to bring you peace.

Just weird seeing your friends act like children. But, gotta learn somehow?