Monday, November 10, 2008

more useless unfinished lyrics:

but how long can synapses hold the weight for collapses
when it becomes standard traffic to play the role of tragic
when yours habits and practice are to accept the black magic
hidden under the hatches and your mind's soft patches
you never bothered to ration the decisions never second guessed
turning circle upon circle, never made it to the lesson next
the edge of ven diagrams seems to be your best of bets
you've hampered yourself with a half-hearted s.o.s.


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