i still believe in anarchy)-well . . and there is a question as to where we stand , and so then , how does one find themselves trading in the actions in a roulette to make a quick buck , it seriously feels like a job and so the song goes , my mother knows why im still caving in after the ballot turns to a landslide , perhaps i dont like pretending but i never give a way for action , especially when confronted with a question that would slump those with the capacity to capture it , henceforth the back and forth , and without distractions . . so then the momentary caper and notice , perhaps it is dmso snd those jacked up sailors want that agony to subsist of marlboro malice that parts away with the religious aspects of the wild west and cartoon-like gangsters parish with the sex and the violence on set and on the silverscreen , all to watch the confusimg moment they all rob the cargo and kidnap the wives . .
.png)
I can barely remember those days when it all felt out of place, incongruent, maladjusted, or just plain strange. it seemed like everybody was on the same page but rather absent. now it feels like its all part of some big scheme to try to make up for lost times. who knows if anybody is still out there living that same disaster. i like to think i've moved on but i keep losing ground everytime i hear somebody speak to me. a reminder. and just how long can you keep this going. a brush with death can do one shameless. but its not that shortness of breath that really grips me but rather those last moments before its gone. -maybe, idk