Today is the day I truly realized
that despite my best intentions -
I am still traveling - misdirected...
I can only heal myself - and without
their death, I may have a chance...
If I want to get my shit together
I'd better start price shopping
for a better shovel.
The sounds of sickness ring in my ears
and every second of silence
is paid for with the knowledge
that if I breathe this stale air -
I might die with the rest of them...
So I sit very still, and I barely subsist-
I don't give myself enough credit,
this paranoia could be my salvation...
Though each day brings with it
another chance for disaster -
and each day brings with it
another reason to run away...
"Foreign" has been looking nice -
this time of year, they say it's cold -
and I don't mind the cold,
it's the sickness I'm afraid of...
I can only tell myself that maybe
if I ignore the coughing,
maybe, if I ignore all the silly little people
and their silly little drugs,
I may scrape by and come out of this one
intact...
but then,
there's something to be said
about the portability
of separatism. |