raw_materials

He says that he sang today...

He says that it has been so long...

Too long...

Since he actually felt good...

Good enough to sing...
He says he sang at the top of his lungs...
With the windows down...
The warm wind in his hair...
The golden setting sun on his face...


He has come to realize that times like these are few and fleeting...
And that he must make the most of them.

In the past... he would worry if It would come back...

But now..

Now...he just waits for It...

He waits for It to wave over him...
And drag him down...
Into the deep...
Where it is cold...
And dark...
And lonely...

And where his screaming song is just a defening silence...