Under the starless L.A. sky
Sometimes the music just carries me up and out, like a
wave. Like right now. Finaly able to get the Ministry of
Sound. No internal noise, no visious voices that are saying
its all too much, resort back to before, to the real you.
Back before time ment anything, when all there was was the
needle and the gun. Lash outside so hard that they will
never touch me, never see me. Inside I can feal it, that
part of me that lusts after the rush. I sometimes feal that
it was all way too fantastic, otherworldly, to be real. Or
at least to be my life.