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sedrftzsxdc
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words words words
word swords words
word sword swords
Which is it?
It is wordswordswords.
And they're lifting me up and crashing me down, like waves in the ocean. Like a bi-polar merry-go-round. Like a junkie getting high, and then coming down... hard. Like a old rollercoaster badly in need of maintence. Squeakysqueakysqueaky. Dizzing highs, the lowest of lows. Good times, bad times, old times, new times, black times, blue times, times lived, times lost, times gained, and times wasted, and most certaintly wasted times. And I do mean wasted times.
They're words words words, but they cut just like
word sword swords.
But they are now, just as they ever were, they are only
wordswordswords.
And they will go on for as long as anything else will.
Inside out, backwords, forwords, down the the rabbit hole and then out again, through the other side.
We fall, we float, and we rise.
I fall, I float, and I rise.
All with the wordswordswords.
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