when you walk down the street, opposite me.
You haven't a clue how used I've been
because you don't know what I've done.
The problem here is that we're apocalypsing
and we can't stop the terror and tragedy.
No matter who we may really be,
it's never who we really are.
We walk about so carelessly,
dropping little pieces of ourselves-
of our hearts- along the way.
The crazy is that when others
collect them, we can't get them back.
Ink
Find the feeling deep insidePeeling the skin of a thousand lies
Search the moon on the roaring tide
It's all because you don't know why