Sick of Man- Cold

Gone Away- Cold

There's no 'I' in Team- Taking Back Sunday

Polariods of Polar Bears- AlexisonFire

Denial, Revisited- The Offspring

So here we go havin the same old fight again/ Go there she goes the same old game that never ends/ If i could say, all the right words i know i could make you stay/ If i could say all the right words things would work out all right.

Do we make ourselves or do we simply become? Because I've become this, but only because I let myself.

Is symmetry beautiful, or is perfection found in variation?

What's the point of format if it makes the art look strained?

What's the point of feelings if you don't act on them? And what's the point of acting when the end result is invariably a regression to your state before said feelings surfaced?

back & forth