You know what I see in you? I see a need to be diffrent, a need to be unique, a need to be strong among the weak and rich among the poor. And to be quite frank, I don't think its getting you anywhere. Your almost the same. Nothing special in my book. But being indiffrent isn't anything to be worried about. People like it that way. Its easier to take their pick, you know. The blue eyes, the blonde hair, typical, nothing out of the ordinary. Plain Old Jane. Yet, I still don\'t understand-you hide your diffrences because you don\'t want people to know the truth, but then, you wish to be unique? Diffrences make you diffrent sweetheart. So buckle up and enjoy the ride. Your not getting anywhere, pacing in an aimless stride. Go somewhere. Go somewhere deep, where the oceans meet the sky, where heaven and hell allign. I\'m supposed to tell you to stop all the bad, and bring on the good, but that messes the pattern all up. The good needs to balance the bad, the bad needs to exist for good to have a meaning. Mistakes don\'t have a meaning in a world of perfection. So what now? Concentrate. Breathe in, and out. Its all method in the acting. You know what I\'m saying? Stop asking questions. Focus. Believe. Believe in yourself to be more, even if you think theres not more you can be. It all lies within your hands, my vission is starting to blur. It all made sense, now I\'m not to sure. Miss Murder. Miss Murder. Self Destruct? But no longer. We all cry... we all end up positioned to die. What are you waiting for, success? what now? Hopefully this time you won\'t be found. I know what you want, lines upon your arms.thighs.heart.chest. Stop being so unique. Your desires are all the same. They all add up to nothing, all equal no equivalence of blame. Tremble, take off the dress, I\'ve found you out. No need to die in a wedding gown. Your not of innocent, little virgin doll, a wedding dress doesn\'t need the fire, the wrong passion you wish to entrhal. Leave it alone. Grasp another day. Take another life away. Leave her be. Let her grow. Water her with love and power, please, let her go. Perhaps one day she blooms, but not from the fresh graveyard scent. Perhaps one day she rises, to know she\'s become her enemy of decent. Her guarder, and her slave. Perhaps one day she\'ll put it all, in the hands of a rightful grave. Hold on when all seems well, hold on when death beckons its tale. Be strong. Be diffrent. Rants. Days of nothing. All important in resistance, my friend. Fight, fight, fight till the end.
