I wish i could just hit you with this writers block.. its the only solid thing that remains on my watch, besides the useless clock and you telling me to stop so i act not positive but only for the thought of my cause. turning rights into wrongs for the darkness is comfort, barrying my head in the dirt So i could think from down under. forgetting where thunder comes from i throw the block over my shoulder and continue to silently soldier my way threw this old curse of lost words.. I've never asked them why it hurts. Just continue to suffer hopen these verbs will work them selves out with an open stir from the colapse of my souls worth.. living dead i relapse on the feeling of hearing some critiqued work. So i write from another artists eyes, relizing the potential of my vocal instrument on a low pitch cure.  EARTHH BOUND