i think i am not so wordless...
i'm casual and usual.
the thing is that i'm no more material
and no more practical.
i'm just somebody's illusion
or frustration. or reaction
on destruction and eruption...
i'm your proclamation of
laziness...

my anarchy is a symbol --
a lonely tree
on the left slope of a sad hill...
pills just make me lost and ill
i dismiss all thoughts as they rise in my head,
the pulsation of land --
could you feel that?
pressure’s low, pleasure’s high
this is my soulfly
think i'm mad.

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