Twenty-nine years into life. Some things, I still can get right. Priorities may never be straight. That's always a topic for debate. I've made up my mind. I shouldn't be loved. I play in a band, I work when I'm home. Why do I feel guilty for the shit that I have done? I've opened some doors. Slammed just as many. Opportunity's knocked. How can you blame me? I'm trapped in a life that I have chosen. My heart's growing colder yet harder to be broken. Again and again. I'm chipping away at nothing.
Majestic None More Black
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