sábado, 12 de janeiro de 2008
I wanna be your dog
It's kinda boring keeping the same thing out. It's a kind of little death, a warmer little death. It's something you can't predict, and it's something you truly know from the start. Why now? I don't know. I do care. Don't you suspect for a moment that I don't, cuz I do. This word isn't even in the dictionary and I should, for a moment, think about it and don't dream it anymore. But the dreams do come. And they make me feel... If I can't feel, I'm not real... But now, I just don't want to feel. Peel off every layer in my body, smooth my heart, beg it to beat... You don't know me any better than any one does, but I feel every drop of my dark red blood running towards everything, and nothing. For I'm truly anything, but I just don't want to be... anymore. I can't put it into words. I don't know if I can. I wanna be your dog.