My Dear we're slow dancing in a burning room
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Tuesday, August 17, 2010, 9:40 PM
The hands on my clock spin like they're about to fly right off the wall and out my window. 9:47, 9:48, 9:49. The minutes pass like the clicking of a pen. Insubstantial and meaningless to the clock, but every minute brings us closer to tomorrow. To us, to freedom, to victory, to the war we are about to walk into. Side by side, we crawl together through the hell of this earth. And we will make it out alive. One way or another.
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Vanity isn't a sin, a little narcissm wouldn't hurt.
The World would be a much lesser place without corndogs and pizzas.
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Andrew. Music. Food. People. What more could you possibly want?
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One day when i wake up and find the motive and time to link anybody, i'll let you know.
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An accidentality production
Inspiration from DancingSheep & BONBON:D
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