the endless cycle, up all night, writing my name, attempt insight, longing in darkness, and blushing in light, searching for something, to make something right. anxious, creative, the feeling is trife. intoxication is mechanic, cause im up all night. blown by the wind, through-out my whole life with nothing but dakness, to make the day light. searching fo something, to make nothing right. words, endlessly spoken, but they dont mean shit. without darkness and light, to make meaning of it. Lost and broken, words that are spoken to you and to me , the human condition, words have no value, without being written. The things that we miss, the people forgotten, like squirells in a tree, whos trunk has gone rotten. waiting to plummet, hopping your branch breaks last, so you can watch those above you, fall to the grass. the jaded focus, to what? were not sure. cause we're up all night , and there is no cure.