I think I am in love with apathy and sighs.
I don't feel well when I look into
my own eyes.

What comes next?
After all this scripted non-sense.
The art is gone...

I'll sit on the ******* fence.

And when they come for me,
demanding things I cannot see.
I'll feel the shame I lack,
and keep looking

for the track

  that I can't
                stay
                   on.