I was dark and foul,
I've been watched by owls,
Moving mountains with mounds of weight making it hard to climb the hill of fate. Old Drawings, notes, spread across the floor,
Screaming insanely about hidden messages I knew would happen before hand, last spring he made this trip all the way till fall,
He hardly made it to the end,
Summer bash is him making new enemies out of friends,
He just expressed it so that it can be heard many ways and many days later different then the same,
Yet so similar it can affect even his own thoughts about what he was thinking when going insane using his brain to explain nothing worth saying