Forget your chest’s last chance for rest – there’s no winning lottery ticket for the shit that you’ve been getting into. You think there’s a chance, that you dance around in circles, up on both hands, laughing and making faces at the paces replaced by your routine – you think your hands are clean just because you’ve washed them?
Let me tell you something – the battles have rattled these shackles; remember this? Remember what I used to tell you about the shit that Tyler would get me into, as your face said NO YOU IDIOT NO –
We’d rant and rave about the days that set in explosions of orange and purple as we were in our own blaze of a passive aggressive tug-of-war…
here’s the point: there was never a battle for you to win, never a war for you to lose. come back to reason.