I will never forget"I will never forget"I say to myself, in silenceI think it to myselfout loudAlthough I thinkI should say it to youI don't know if you want to hearwhat it isI'll always rememberI've stood on the brinkof saying everythingbut I don't think I havequite the wordsto do itI will never forgetwhen we talked, in silenceI think to myselfout loud.
Bad DaysYou know you're having a bad daywhen "Please, mind the gap"and "Keep of the tracks"turn from reminding warningsto an unmistakable challengeI guess "Danger, High Voltage"doesn't prove a thinguntil I have that currentrunning through me
Masturbatory RemeberanceMy memory is a self-serving arsealways bringing up the pastI know our policy may be"Let's forgive, but not forget"That doesn't make it any easierand how do I forgive myselfwhile I still rememberwithout it being an act of self-servicecommitted by an absolute arseOh, wait... I guess I am my memoriesaren't I?
On a Throne of StormsWith a crown forged from thunderhe went to his enemies sunderWith his unlimited withe ruled the lands as he saw fitThis is the lightning king's decreethe winds howled like a banshee"Each and every one of you will fall,not a single one will be left standing tall"
Close My EyesI wish you all a good nightin which you may sleep tightor at least get some restwe all get some shut-eyehere and therebut isn't thatwhat's called blinking?
Shaken SpiresThe question is“to be or, not to be?”according to all oursShakespearebut really that oneisn’t that hard“to not be”is so obviously rightthe question really is“why are we still?”The only answer I havefor myselfis that I’m much too afraidand I’ve nothing left to gainfrom my own demiseand nothing left to losefrom staying aroundI’m an un-beingsomething less alivebeyond the veil ofexistenceI’ve got a little bit deadto my little bit alivebut I missed outon the answersof the afterlife“what are we still?”The only answer I havefor myselfis that I’m much too afraidand I’ve nothing left to gainfrom my own demiseand nothing left to losefrom staying aroundI’m still thinkingso I must be realIsn’t that right,Cartesius?I’ve found that the universeis dictated by logicthat proves it unrealStatistics clearly showevery moment is impossible“how are we s
How are we?How are we?I asked myself and my friend.He said he was "okay."and he asked "you?"I said:I'm happy, I really amand that makes me kind of sad.I don't feel like I deserve thishappiness.The resulting sadness,in itself makes me sadbecause the reason I feel this wayis so pathetically stupidthat I don't know what to dowith myself.How are we?We're twofoldHappy that we're sadbecause this reminds me againof what I was taughtby my dearest (nearest) friend'everyone's pain is equal,we cannot understand another's hurt,even if it's the same as yours,you don't know how they deal,cope, and feel.'How are we?In conclusion:I'm happy,how about you?
Hor1zoneThe sea has always been bittersweet to me.So vibrant, yet so deadly.So beautiful, yet so dark.So vast, yet the horizon really isn't that far.Just five kilometers away, heaven and hell clash.With clouds and waves they war, and the question really is...which is which?Behind one, empty space,in the other hides the monsters of the earth.(well, if you count us out,that is.)
Parchmentif people had paperfor skinand pencilfor nailsand toucheswrote truthsI would dip minein inkand with the most gentletouch-love,would spring