Private Number

He stopped, I’m looking at your pictures, when you looked old
As you become a message to yourself, I’m on to the world
It’s an often grave yard, and that was 2004
And you were in terrible trouble
And it’s gone gone gone
ENforced lessons are happening
And the weights are just coming down
You think that you’ll be different then and you are, but how?
And each year you think the next one is the future and then you’re there
The mirrors off, you can’t recall, or just avoid like a private number
And Europes fucked probably
It seems insane
My freidns art meets garden
End of days
I think I’ve never been better
I’m at the top of my game
I’m living it up for TV dust
And disassemble, you’ve got to disassemble that stuff
Why is my life coming from my screen
And not from outside?
I see myself as if from the street
And I turn on the light
I look at all the emails
I have forgotten which
But why am I telling you this?
You are not even here