Pitchfork At My Throat

falling short of every desire within you getting fatter, and older and more useless nowhere to go but up less you count digging a hole further down the phone lay untouched and silent much like life feeling deserted and left behind watching my own chest rise and fall rapidly losing touch with reality like slowly drowning with concrete ties to your ankles, and just when everythings looking up someone with a sledgehammer starts pounding you back down the only way to remember your sad pathetic little life is through photos taken by a drunk who thought his own thumb was a kodak moment the music weeps in rhythem to the whimpers all things lost everything every...desire.