| I'm slipping back into it again. I wish this was the end as I get it off my chest. Oh the intution is leaving me me barely alive, I'll have to step outside the circle, and look around, and find the colors. Black and White. Which always come to me. Looking over endless doors of deception, and detection of the Virus from which they circle the rooms, hopeing to find, Leave these memmories behind, oppertunity, extra clues, truth that can't be told, Ultimate timing gone wrong, So much left to decay for too long. Cross the Triangle and Disgrace whatever may come. Now embrace the shuffleing deck, and grab onto the neck of Life, and place the strangle hold onto it, feel the beauty of Ritual Suicidal Ecstasy, hold the Anarchy, and shape the Mockery into a Weapon of. Fluent rage to the Infinate extent. Shift the wills, and sift through the years. Time can't be tampered with, just the result of things gone astray, things that lead the way, Find the one who is in a skin shedding decay, then tell the ones you hold inside the mind, that you finally got left behind, so much to fight for, so little time, to die right. So much light left, and so many nights with Constant frights. |
