Those colors, they're not real
You're not real, just a quilt of lies
Where are your splatters? Your memories, are they real?
What say you, puppet of many faces?
That was your choice.
Your mind isn't yours, anymore.
View User's Journal
A Conversation with Myself
If you're not me, you'd only be here if you went out of your way to look.
Turn back, or buckle in, bucko.
 |
