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Rabbits Are Roadkill On Rt 37

Sanity. Seems to come and go like the wind at times, and I thought I had a grip on it. There is a side of myself that I neglect to acknowldege, and I'm starting to realize it may be a mistake. Some say ignorance is bliss, and it certainly can be. But it seems that this time around ignorance is not an option.

As much as I've been trying to leave the past in the past, a few friends have given me "updates". Apparently "the pattern" repeats a third time... If you've read past entries, you might have a good guess on what I mean by that.

I want to slam the doors shut, I want to thrash the walls. The aggrivating part is I look at it and wonder if I was just as stupid as well two years ago.. And I'm constantly afraid of failure.

There's more I want to say, but now is not the time. I'm in the process of cleaning and rearranging my room, but I've been so thrown off that I needed to say something somehow. I don't really feel like myself today.

Quote:
What once did exist now is meaningless
and doesn't it seem funny how soon you did forget (how soon you did forget)
All the words have now lost their weight
But I remember, I remember

Desperation, devastation
All I truly know . . . all that I know
Is isolation, self-damnation
All light that I'd owned
was shed and worthless now

What I knew was wrong, one who lived is gone
Guess it was just an echo when you would sing my song (when you would sing my song)
All the notes you'd forgotten now
You left abandoned, I remember

Desperation, devastation
All I truly know . . . all that I know
Is isolation, self-damnation
All light that I'd owned was shed and worthless now

I can hate myself more, more than anyone.

Will you join me?

I know you know that this tortures me
Have I've created the suffering?
Show life, or do you happily cut further in?
To sever words left inside that binds me

Now all I feel is

Desperation, devastation
All I truly know . . . all that I know
Is isolation, self-damnation
All light that I'd owned
was shed and worthless now

Desperation, devastation
All I truly know . . . all that I know
Is isolation, self-damnation
All light that I'd owned was shed and was this worthless now?
"For once there was an unknown land, full of strange flowers and subtle perfumes,
a land of which it is joy of all joys to dream, a land where all things are perfect and poisonous."

Extra Audio Aid: AFI - Rabbits Are Roadkill On Rt. 37

-timx

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