| Current mood: | Deep Fried Robot |
| Current music: | Suck it... |
----Depression Pills----
Trapped beneth skin like a fat tick sucking the life right out of the body, it's like some cold hearted bum set up shop deep in your soul. They fight you for your air, unwilling to let you control your own thought process like some robot set on override. Some sorta acid trip, where the catapiller asks if you want the pill that throws the kill switch and turns you into zombie, deep fried robot running on empty. Emotionless like a listless kite, caged behind the limbs of the withering tree thats choking on our smog. Nothinging ness is left of your spirit stubed out like some half attemped forest fire. Your ember left to die cold and lonely on the wind.....
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