Those Hamm's didn't drink themselves. No more lighting incense on your shelves. That bed is a ***** one my friend. The bridge burnt, you watched the fires end. And there's been a thing or two, written on that wall. And a thing or two more, before paint covers it all.
You've heard that story he tells. The one about the haunted cabin; the one with the wrapping paper. The wrapping paper that goes "WRAP". I think most of us have heard that story.
But the truth is, he's not going to tell it anymore. That old man, he grew old.
Find some peace of mind in the cracks and the binds. You've been mended once, you'll mend me this time. We'll all see the sunshine when you open the blinds.
Willingly submissive to my lacking productivity, I stir around those little thoughts aimlessly. That cat will finally look into a day in the life and grant me some amnesty.
There's nothing sweet about nostalgia. There's something sweet about the past. There's something sweet about the future. There's something sweet about this moment. But, there's nothing sweet about nostalgia.
Grey nights, cold and candleless I'm handleless, no grip on anything. A memory, remembering a hushed whispering fluttering and disappearing to a dreamscape, pursued in dedication Medication is the modern vacation.
pulling thoughts and memories from deep within each other's minds. Analyzing and reflecting, judging and accepting, loving and hating, but learning nonetheless.