Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts there's only ghosts and lonelyness and it hearts me. People always leave, people doesn't care about anything, I don't care about anything. I know that I shouldn't be crying like a baby because I'm a "lucky" person. I have everything to be happy but the essential isn't.
So what?
Marching to the heartbeats, drawing the people leaving, playing heartful sounds, playing with my nerves, standing on a roof: I would just have to fall and die. And then? What happen then? Nothing ever happen because we're already dead.
