thisisallwrong

i've tried to live off the idea of constants, fuck it. i'm cold and hot, calm and nervous, intoxicated and sober, living and dead, drained and worked up, all at the same time. over the past few, a switch was clicked. ok , soo they say i'm even more crazy, i say "dreams taste different, depending the mood." i'm happy, and i don't care if nobody listens. the pie in the sky will always be there, so why take it off the sill yet?




in the end
eye believe you, but my patch don't