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Napalm Death Fear Emptiness Despair Twist The Knife (Slowly) Gut level, below it all. Out of duty - just here. Feeling like a knife's being twisted in the hole of how it is. False hope, an inch of pride that died when I left to hide from non = stop battering of conditioned opinion. Rest assured but not assured, all is well, but I think we've dealt = with the fear for far too long. Unborn suffer the norm. Born to this - I thin not! I stand against till the shit drops. We see all but do nothing, in the hole of =B3How it is=B2. |
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