I discovered at a very early age that if I talk long enough then I can make anything right or wrong. So, either I’m God, or truth is relative. And in either case: Booyah.
the rotted love manipulates me
and I, I, you, we’re not thinking my stromata
…considering the weight of the bricks I laid, now that I’m through..
One by one, sealed every crack that I could slip between to find my way back…
you can’t go back home once you’ve cast it away..
The heavy weight of promises made, if I could exonerate, I might just lift off today.
You can’t go back home once you’ve cast it away.
Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map