The more I regress the more I can tolerate,
the dreams in my past that are slipping away from me.
I was made to say words that I can't rephrase,
I think it's safe to say that I won't be okay.
In the end I'll have nothing, but I guess that I'll try.
And if this is life, why do I want to die.
Experience is nothing but bad repetition,
time spent alone is never time wasted.
Track Name: For Ann, Again.
Blood from the walls runs tirelessly through my languid mind.
Like a stone at the bottom of a stream that worries of the current's corruptive force.
Is it the shore that pull towards it the innocence of the ocean,
or is it the retiring wavelets that retreat from corruption.
A reassuring comment with a tone enshrouded in glibness is far from reality,
but is a necessary means to the end that is existence.
Perturbed, as we may be, we wade in the hazy shallows,
hoping, praying to a god inside ourselves not to take the inevitable false step,
and empty ourselves into the vast receptacle of eternity, bringing forth the consciousness we seem to desire.
The battle between validity and irrelevance is one fought at wit's end.
Contemplative efforts that profit from confusion.
Trying to find meaning in what does not and recognizing hope where there is none.
Onward we continue as the path begins to crumble outside of our peripherals.
Is it we that seek the void, or is it in fact, the void that seeks me?
Track Name: Life Onward
Conclusions left up to fate.
Unknowingly, I partake.
In the ritualistic trauma, and life seems day to day.
What have I left to offer?
In a crumbling fit of shame, lies will only suffice for the time it takes. Gradually slipping away, no longer will I complain of fairness and deceit, two things that I hold dear.