…from this city. it is killing me. went to a smaller town in mid-germany to meet up with a nice girl. the entire thing blew up in my face and now i sit here pulling shards out of my skin and soul. looking at the cuts that are left i cant stop wondering if there isnt an alternative. following down the paths of allohistory, knowing that somewhere out there i did the right thing.
interesting thing is i fail at expressing myself in any language that is known to me, other than music. there seems to be a certain truth in what other artists have to say about my life. its probably also easier to hide behind words. yet still the pen is stronger than the sword. written words contain more power than anything else.
“music is the noise that thinks”