My thoughts are on a merry go round,
churning my mind in perpetual cycles
till it has been named chaos.

A certain memory rings in my ear,
deafening out the world;
as it climbs and slithers down my spine
echoing through the hollow shell I've become.

Walk along the sunlit street, and listen to the birds.
Listen to the angels and their softly spoken words.
Listen to the sound of wind across a grassy knoll,
But don't listen to the hole.
It's time to smell the roses, and the little daffodils,
It's time to smell the smell of your dad's burger on the grill.
Why don't you go outside and enjoy a pleasant stroll?
Just don't listen to the hole.
Because the closer that you get, to this hole inside the ground,
The more that you will hear the most horrific of all sound,
It's the sound of every evil thing that lives inside your soul,
So don't listen to the hole, please don't listen to the hole.

Devils whisper in his ears,
Of death threats and hatred.
Now, there he laid,
With a slow beeping of his heart,
Unconcious,
With his soul gripping to live,
And his mind weakening.

《 e.i 》

I wonder, what else you remember?
Is it worth remembering?