Birth. Conspire. Be. Upset.
by Ceremony· from Still, Nothing Moves You
Disconsolate
apart from the crash
aside from the stone faced
mad in the eyes
I won't buy
optimism
no happy money
no complacence
histrionic general public sickness
foul mouth ridden
mass republic
grant me the madness to drive me away
exploding my insides
total dismay