You stumble forward into potentiality,
But you can’t escape your own brutality;
The future may be an untilled soil,
But as for the past, it’s black spilt oil.
Take out your small seed and plant it;
You’ll find the ground no longer wants it;
You think it might be easy to split;
But didn’t you always want to quit.
But you can’t escape your own brutality;
The future may be an untilled soil,
But as for the past, it’s black spilt oil.
Take out your small seed and plant it;
You’ll find the ground no longer wants it;
You think it might be easy to split;
But didn’t you always want to quit.
In Album: Photoshoots