Memory fades, and days become weeks.
Who benefits in the end?
Am I even awake?
Nostalgia kicks me square in the teeth.
I remember passion...maybe it’s overrated.
I can’t be asleep.
I am slowly driving myself insane.
A hint of polyurethane fills the air,
I’ll subscribe to false consciousness.
I wanna see how this ends.
A stale generation is misery’s gift to the world.
The cycle repeats.