A Pathetic Exile...
There is a turning point when the dramatic becomes pathetic...am not quite sure when that happens, but I know it does...
It's more like one's pathetic attempts to re-capture what was lost...and each attempt becomes even more derisory than the previous one...one becomes pathetic in one's exile.
These pathetic attempts to re-capture what was lost are all meant to be...They want to show you how foolish you are, for trying...still.
You become like some lone beggar with a pack of memories...a few songs here, a few photos there, you re-hash them alone like a fucking idiot while everyone moves on...and moves away...
You become pathetic yourself...misunderstood, demode, and out of sync...You try to explain, but it's too late. The cover up is too great and you alone with your bare hands can do nothing about it...no amount of unearthing will do...you are alone, pathetically alone...in Exile.
It's more like one's pathetic attempts to re-capture what was lost...and each attempt becomes even more derisory than the previous one...one becomes pathetic in one's exile.
These pathetic attempts to re-capture what was lost are all meant to be...They want to show you how foolish you are, for trying...still.
You become like some lone beggar with a pack of memories...a few songs here, a few photos there, you re-hash them alone like a fucking idiot while everyone moves on...and moves away...
You become pathetic yourself...misunderstood, demode, and out of sync...You try to explain, but it's too late. The cover up is too great and you alone with your bare hands can do nothing about it...no amount of unearthing will do...you are alone, pathetically alone...in Exile.
