Myself disintegrated, everyone disintegrated, yet part of the scheme. How long must this exist, how long must it endure. It¡¯s nice to know there¡¯s still some debauchery going on. Call it what you want, its your decision forget about music, forget about words, this is fashion. I hope everything this world holds for you, I hope it withers away into dust. And I hope everything this world holds for you, I hope it fades. I will write you in one liners, I will trace you in one line phrases.
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Almost Lovely, Almost Nothing
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| Seneca |
