All are welcome to the oblivion.
I want to escape. I'm running.
It is peaceful + empty where I'm going.
No one else is ever here.
You don't want them to be.
If you did, you would not be here.
Don't pull the wool over your own eyes;
you are content, and you're alone.
This is solitude. And nobody can change that.
Not you, you change too much - you're high;
you're falling; you're low; you're crawling;
you are in a battle with something as you climb the four walls,
to leave. To just leave it all. For your final fall.
It's not my place to make a single rule.
I'm here + time's too, although I am not moving,
I feel like the escapist; I am the incarerated.
You climb the walls so much
but you always fuck up
Your head'll get stuck in
but it can still get strung-out
Until there are no more drugs about;
There is no exit.
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