This place inside my mind, a place I like to hide You don't know the chances. What if I should die?! A place inside my brain, another kind of pain You don't know the chances. I'm so blind!
Another place I find to escape the pain inside You don't know the chances. What if I should die?! A place inside my brain, another kind of pain You don't know the chances. I'm so blind!
Deeper and deeper and deeper as I journey to live a life that seems to be a lost reality that can never find a way to reach. My inner selfesteem is low. How deep can I go in the ground that I lay? If I don't find a way to see through the gray that clouds my mind. This time I look to see what's between the lines!
I can see, I can see, I'm going blind... I can see, I can see, I'm going blind... I can see, I can see, I'm going blind... I can see, I can see, I'm going BLIND
I'm blind... I'm blind...
KoRn
not sure if this would qualify as macabre or surreal. oh well. dali would certainly approve, that i know.
--
The finest line of poetry ever produced in the last or any other century was uttered in November of 1969, when Saint Morrison said, "Well I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer."
Devious Comments
That is all.
--
The finest line of poetry ever produced in the last or any other century was uttered in November of 1969, when Saint Morrison said, "Well I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer."
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All I need is a piece of paper
and something to write with, and then
I can turn the world upside down.
- Nietzche
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