Woke up this morning, and lost myself in my unconscious cloud.
Today is.
Yesterday died.
Looking upon the world, feels like a sword on my chin.
Prayin' my dead god.
Spiting on their face.
Searching the key, driving to despair.
Fuckin' sad day.
Moody blues and rising stars.
Camille de Blainville
Journal poétique.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
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