We're getting older, and yesterday is catching up to our plans of getting out of this alive. We're all alone here with nowhere left to hide. I've never been so scared to breathe and open up my eyes. A new day is breaking off the mold. Our bodies left us hours ago. The second hand takes first again. My fingers, too late to grab ahold of what's ahead, and my feet are dragging far behind. My lungs are bleeding. Without their help, I'm bound to die. The air is much too thin. My will is too weak to survive. Where the fuck are we going? Why aren't we home? This coast is a graveyard. We have nowhere to go. I've been sleeping in interludes synched up to the rain, that is plaguing this Summer, that is causing this pain. To the North is a light, to the West there is hope. We are drowning in debts. We're in need of a rope to hold onto or fit to our necks. My will is dead.
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