all that is gold, is rusted
no one will know
seasons cease, to change...
how far we've gone, how far were going
so here and the now
and the love for the sound
are the moments that keep us moving
waves crash along...
well this side of, mortality is
scaring, me, to death
to death
soldier on
keep your heart, close, to the ground
-The Temper Trap

self-loathe is becoming my new best friend.