Silverchair sorta mood

E-motion sickness
Addict with no heroin
E-motion sickness
Distorted eyes
when everything is clearly dying

Imagine pageant
In my head
The flesh seems thicker
Sandpaper tears corrode the film

Millionaire say
Got a big shot deal
And thrown it all away but
But I’m not too sure
How I’m supposed to feel
Or what I’m supposed to say
But I’m not, not sure,
Not too sure how it feels
To handle every day
And I miss you love

Sometimes, I wish I could be just like the people I see in the crowds of people. Just lose myself inside them and vanish from existence. Because blending in is so much better than letting people notice that you’re crying inside.

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