| Wednesday, July 16, 2008
 
It was one hundred degrees, as we sat beneath a willow tree, Who's tears didn't care, they just hung in the air, and refused to fall, to fall.
 
 it's times like this
 you ever imagine a world that hate the his smiles
 the slow clockwork of the world seems to set everything against him
 a reaction to his every action
 he cant control the sound and crackle of his voice
 the shape his facial expression choose to take
 he seem weak
 but his only flaw?he tries too hard.thinks too much
 but fret not
 go to sleep and see the gentle breeze set plains alive
 
 
 remember to forget
 what would happen if this was gotham?
 
 truth to be told i could use a few inspiring articles
 
 |  |