All the complaining, why don't you just leave? The frames in my head keep asking me. So much has changed and been left behind. Convincing myself this isn't a waste of time. How much music? How much art? Was it all for nothing from the very start? My hands are welded to the fucking bars. Don't tell me letting go isn't that hard. Years spent on this, but how many more? Youth have the market cornered on hardcore.
Is there an end in sight? That I can't see?
Should this all just be a memory?
These scars won't heal these marks won't fade, forever a creature created by this place. I can walk out the door, but can I really leave? I might convince you but I can't convince me.
Wave goodbye to your youth. What else is there left to do? Watch the torch burn out. Charred remains hit the ground.