Reluctantly, the rusty gears ground to sluggish life amid much protest

Beginnings of a song idea --


I'm not who you think I am
I'm not who you think I am
I'm not who you think I am

Often I have wondered what the light is like to those for whom it poisons not their eyes and lays waste to their mind. I have long since fallen to the ruins of society, the dregs of this humanity, the cell for which there is no key.

Sometimes I can feel the death of things I once had thought to save for no other reason than the solace that I thought they gave. Now that I have come to the conclusion that all is in vain, I start to feel my conscience wane, a stranger to that which is sane.

Touching to the edges of my consciousness, I feel the icy tendrils of insanity begin to make their presence known. All that anchored me to that complacency has long since died, and now I have nowhere to hide, I must accede to take the ride.


More to come, if anything ever does.