i don’t always understand, probably because of that scottish accent. nothing is ever stable, not scott’s devastating lyrics, not grants pounding pounding drums. if it’s the last song, i believe it. just excuse your self, if you are drowning bubbling flaming falling, do it to your self and be efficient. bound along the dancing keys, never changing, fuck someone you don’t know and don’t care about.
but stability in death. you remember death always, knowing it is all the time, at any time, and those that die weren’t always dead. i am not dead. i will be. does that change anything?
if i forget, will i always forget? i might have just had… well something, too little too much. so it treads over my form, alive, walking in circles, over me and not. when it stops. it never stops. when it stops, i will get up, my nails are on fire with dirt, reaching up past my nail bed. it never stops. will there be somewhere to go when it stops? or anyone to welcome me, congratulate me? be there? but it never stops.
take your life give it a shake.