"...and they’re not the kind of group to send you home with choruses buzzing around your cranium. Instead they operate on a much deeper, slightly insidious level. I like them."
- Dave Ling, Dave Ling's Diary
All this, it’s such a mess.
Nobody sees anymore.
Would I be wrong if I though there was no time to lose?
Would I be right if I thought I could choose?
It’s so abrasive.
Reflections of you, there always near.
When the surface is smooth, they’re always clear.
I have a note on the mirror, it reminds me to breathe.
If I cannot see myself, I will die.
The more I can choose,
The more I can leave,
The more I can breathe.
So speaks the hermit.
Keep contact to a minimum.
I don’t go out in case I hear a sound I don’t like.
Best to play safe in my space, and to live there by night.
It’s so degrading.
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