Wish I had the same passion as those around me, but too often did I see through the mock-up.
Wish I could perform the same way, but for too long did I find no worth any thing tangible.
Wish I could give to those who have none, but what all I have to offer seems but worthless.

I ain't much, and I never cared for much, or at least I tell myself I don't.
Ain't shit out there that I really want to attest myself to.
What do I live for? Nothing really. Only reason I haven't left was because of the people around me.
I don't wanna cause pain when I die, but I seem to cause too much trouble when I'm alive.
Or at least...I think I'm alive. Maybe this soulessness thats been attacking me has finally reached its goal.


In terms of the brain department, all I have is but the rehashing of old elements from re-occuring dreams of yesteryear. I'm but a blank emptied slate to the infinite white of tomorrow, and evenso, all I see is black.