westid

nobody makes mix tapes anymore and i feel like a mosh.

all the way through my life people have been trying to make me lose my shit but tonight someone finally got me. i feel like me and god himself are havin a proper straightener, and i know from the mistakes of others that it’s foolish to stand in the way of the omnipotent mind, but that is a feeling within myself that never again do i wish to find.

i was nearly struck by lightning once and i remember how the bolt that hit a container right in front of me in the epicentre of a shitstorm was a bolt of red orange and blue, i was deafened for a minute or two … i would fucking reach for that sooner than feel the pure evil that this fucking deity born a bastard has decided to put me through

oh fuck off i’m headbangin for a bit

fuck it let it out, come on let it show, the only thing that comes of it all is yes or no, and even so…

i wanted to corrupt them and all, it was an order of business so tall. all that mattered was the grace from which they were supposed to fall. but you read different, i can hear your call. are you calling for me? or are you just an angel, who somehow gained access to this fucking oubliette, came to light up all my darkness. are you the one that they all – although they didn’t come close – wanted to be?

i remember when i used to get up and sing …

nothing is foregone. and neither am i.
go on donald show em how it’s done
i love a good comeback