Laying in bed, blowing smoke rings, I've realized what I want.
Who am I really mad at?
I know what I want.
I want to fly up a million feet in the sky, and self destruct in a bright white light.
So everyone can witness it, maybe talk about it for a few days, and then just forget about it.
And I won't have anything to worry about anymore, because that'll be the end of my existence.
But I'll be happy in knowing, that I burned out and didn't just fade away.
1 comment:
Poetic, Danish...but I'd say stick around another millenium, maybe instead of self-destructing into-, you'll become that bright white light.
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