This battered room I've seen before
The broken bones they heal no more, no more
With my last breath I'm choking
Will this ever end I'm hoping
My world is over one more time

Time Passes. Even When It Seems Impossible. Even When Each Tick Of The Second Hand Aches Like The Pulse Of Blood Behind A Bruise. It Passes Unevenly, In Strange Lurches And Dragging Lulls, But Pass It Does. Even For Me.

~These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and power, which, as they kiss, consume.