The black hair makes me who i am. but thats irrelevant. the people document their experiences for future reference but they burned the tapes! the things ive seen will make you shrug your shoulders and keep on talking. but the beauty was there, open your eyes like its the first time. everything can be new, even deja vu. nothing is ever old, never the same. theres always something different to find, just look. look look look like the man on the cross, he bled for you. he bled pigs blood. the s**t flew from his mouth like the glass i throw. we played catch with our wrists. the beautiful should be revered but the emotions should be severed. the thoughts were impure which made them so clean. cleanliness is empty but why? youre the dirt ill breathe but if i choke its my own damn fault. the words ramble on but thought has ceased. the words mean nothing, take them at face value.