IRC-Galleria

Building the future laws to my philosophy.
AlzheimerÂ’s cutting through, like a lobotomy,
Not even the golden arthritis of King Midas
Could buy comfort and peace for the righteous.
I survived disease and political crisis
By backstabbing gnomes that are now lifeless.
And now I live vicariously through my kids,
Like people who love a sport but canÂ’t play for shit.
Fighting glaucoma, front the cops taking a hit,
I slip into a coma. Roaming over the planet,
Leaving the gold and the granite, the old and the famished,
But just before I vanish as I think, IÂ’m right at then end.
The sun becomes the light of my birth and I live again.
Remember way back when?