It was a flood that wrecked our home, and the sorrows are too loud it broke my bones. I'm just a sillouhette, chasing my own shadows like a phantom.The faces I long to see and a skin I long to touch, there are however a thick air that I'm breathing that fill her presents.
Able just to stay in my inaudible voices, and a head that screams too loud ,the things I would never said, and a sighs that repeating all over again like the same damn songs in a mall that I used to work.
But there are unfammiliar lights that penetrates every holes of misery. A strange arrays of lsd structure lights,a hum of street lights?. Suddenly it all make senses and I , weirdly, don't make any senses.
It's ironic really, all this suckle up like a big orange juice. It's like a dude from 1 Direction that admits himself Kurt Cobain, and sang Smells Like Teen Spirit with a fake grungy voices.
It is fucking cliche ,this pain I thought I'm not gonna have but existed anyway like a hungry fat kid in Mcd that just got his big fat Big Mac.
Now tell me, and scream to my face, why can't my mind shut the fuck up?Because I can't sleep and I'm anxious. I could just be swallowed by the night so that I can pretend no more. So I'll keep my eyes open wide like I'm in a crime scenes
