Sons of Mothers, Unite.

It's like, you know, erm, erm.
That irrevocable feeling.


That pent up feeling from within.
I want to do something drastic. You know,
like hurt a little animal or something.

You know, you blink your eyes once, twice.
Then, you watch as the door gets slammed
shut in your face.

Bam.

Somehow you can't fin a suitable release for
this feeling. No animal to wound, no person to
hit. Just a closed door; and the world, big, empty
and lonely, to face.

That's when you head back home, put your hands
behind your head and sigh. There's no use fighting
anymore. Fought to within an inch of the spirit
breaking and then fought no more. There's nothing
more to do, other than to accept. At least, begin to
understand why, and try to accept the way things
have turned out.

It's not your fault. It's not like you haven't tried.
It's no like you ever gave up. Never did, nossir.
It's going to be a big fat mess to clean up, yes it
will.

Till then, untill you get a fresh start.

There's no more to do, then to relax, with your hands
around your head and indulge in the aroma of stale armpits
and soppy love songs.


'Julie London's-Cry Me A River' is good, gives you hope.
Yea, it does. Stale armpits, nothing beats it.


Oh, and another song comes to mind. You know,
the song that goes 'Raindrops keep falling on my head...'
Heheh. What's the song again?