The little things I've learnt that probably mean nothing.
the only thing worse than not getting what you want is getting what you want and realising you were wrong.
the only people who can hurt you are the people you allow to get close enough to do so
doing what's right is not always doing what's best, much the same as doing what is wrong is not always doing what's worse: i guess it's a question of conscience.
nice out don't equal nice in.
truth is what you don't want to hear.
lies are what you don't need to hear.
it is far easier to get along with someone nothing like you
winning little victories doesn't make you stronger, but letting them go does
letting people get under your skin is a process of listening > processing > accepting
being told what to do makes you want to do the complete opposite
politics is a playground with cameras and suits
being boring is only a matter of having no interest in the world outside
it is impossible to drive and talk on the phone and try and reach your ipod that has fallen on the ground at the same time
no matter what vendetta you lead, people like paris hilton will still find ways of being public idiots
...and my current favourite
the irony in being free to do what you want is that you must not do what you are told
ho hum yes.
xxx
Friday, August 18, 2006
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Forty-five oranges buried in a tree
It's a cool field of green
and a world where lying is forbode
In chains that hold and home us
in hell where cold meets furnace
it's the impossible that's possible
and the real that never hap'd
only babies feel the tremble
in their tiny toes
as that bit of life we had left
drains away as apathy
and what we had worth living for
is worthless now, sold for nowt
and the cold replaces the furnace
being chained to it
reigned to it
held to it and
drawn to it
we chant and breathe
and wild-eye dance
around the last flame
of the everlasting never
i'm taken by the moment
and i say 'i'm still alive'
and eyes widen
blanched hands back away
and they come to take me away
but seeing never's coming
it doesn't matter anyway.
and a world where lying is forbode
In chains that hold and home us
in hell where cold meets furnace
it's the impossible that's possible
and the real that never hap'd
only babies feel the tremble
in their tiny toes
as that bit of life we had left
drains away as apathy
and what we had worth living for
is worthless now, sold for nowt
and the cold replaces the furnace
being chained to it
reigned to it
held to it and
drawn to it
we chant and breathe
and wild-eye dance
around the last flame
of the everlasting never
i'm taken by the moment
and i say 'i'm still alive'
and eyes widen
blanched hands back away
and they come to take me away
but seeing never's coming
it doesn't matter anyway.
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