Let me be as weird as I fuckin' like. It's my life

As fathers leaving all their flags of truth another claims your eyes with fires steeling sleep from us we’re evolving our disguise in constant missing boredom sits a child and waits for hell he longs for all the dangers but all seems far too well a catchy tune leads a way to life for those still here for fun and heaven flirting wildly with someone’s lack of faith market selling answers wrapping up your wish have a dream for breakfast and another one for life wise men count their fingers and stare at you with lustscience rolling on and on there’s no ending kill your trust and as love comes passing through your gate reflecting wonders dawn you sense the world is sleeping and you laugh at being late and even as the fires gets you there’s always time for more instantly with passion you claim to be a whore enlist yourself for freedom buy a ticket from your god enroll the killing dra let your body serve us blood in your righteous wait for nothing beyond your sight where time will tell we will all be facing answers when we check out the hotel when walking for the sunrise distractions gaze our way running for our safety won’t help in any way we’re here as weary questions in a less sophisticated show and you don’t know the answer but one day you will know -Magna Carta Cartel, Hotellus Eviction #magna carta cartel #hotellus eviction #goodmornin grestrained

“Life, to me at least, is a nonstop succession of choice, action and consequence. Before you know it, you have more past than future, so I’m trying to make the best of it. I try to exist, as much as I can, in an environment of noncomparison. I reckon that if I can divorce myself from the ideas of winning and losing, then I can exist in a more self-defined and unique state.” -Henry Rollins

“She said to me, over the phone She wanted to see other people I thought, Well then, look around. They’re everywhere Said that she was confused… I thought, Darling, join the club 24 years old, Mid-life crisis Nowadays hits you when you’re young I hung up, She called back, I hung up again The process had already started At least it happened quick I swear, I died inside that night My friend, he called I didn’t mention a thing The last thing he said was, Be sound Sound… I contemplated an awful thing, I hate to admit I just thought those would be such appropriate last words But I’m still here And small So small.. How could this struggle seem so big? So big… While the palms in the breeze still blow green And the waves in the sea still absolute blue But the horror Every single thing I see is a reminder of her Never thought I’d curse the day I met her And since she’s gone and wouldn’t hear Who would care? What good would that do? But I’m still here So I imagine in a month…or 12 I’ll be somewhere having a drink Laughing at a stupid joke Or just another stupid thing And I can see myself stopping short Drifting out of the present Sucked by the undertow and pulled out deep And there I am, standing Wet grass and white headstones all in rows And in the distance there’s one, off on its own So I stop, kneel My new home… And I picture a sober awakening, a re-entry into this little bar scene Sip my drink til the ice hits my lip Order another round And that’s it for now Sorry Never been too good at happy endings…” -Eddie Vedder “I’m still here”

"We all learn lessons in life. Some stick, some don't. I have always learned more from rejection and failure than from acceptance and success." -Henry Rollins

“I walk the straight lines. I walk through the summer nights. I walk the silver rope of dreams. I walk through dawns of dawns. There’s not a lot that isn’t dying. I see people parading in front of each other like insects in a killing jar, watching each other die. I walk the straight lines through the Christ machines. Through the eyes of the throwaway people. Through the wards and the shores and the cracks in the skulls of the sidewalks. Through love’s howling vacancy. I am the freedom soil. I dig my own grave. I resurrect myself every night. I am all things to myself. I walk the straight lines. I walk the spider’s jailhouse. I walk the think line, the thin line, the white line and all the lines in between. I wish I could trade in my eyes.” ― Henry Rollins, Black Coffee Blues