The Elephant's Room

is godless, ghost infested. It's a fucking devil town if I've ever seen one. The people here walk around as if sunlight means nothing to them, like they don't believe in it, like they don't understand that without it they wouldn't exist. It's the most basic form being taken for granted, and if they cannot appreciate this, then they cannot appreciate anything. Yet they can treat some other being as their sun. A revolution of their emotion around something so unstable as another's emotion. But we do not see the sun. "Your heart is what makes mine beat," what a sick and terrifying proposition that we have put forth here. That does not exist, love does not exist for every reason that humanity does not exist. Ask people why they are alive and you will find a multitude of pseudo-meaningful excuses, every one of which at their core are based in water all of three inches deep. We are all so fucking shallow. We are shells of what was intended and then lost when the sun was forgotten.


Now Playing: Makers - Rocky Votolato