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.: Sunday, January 11, 2004 :.
currently listening to: Zwan -- Lyric
Fade to green, draw the lights in, closer closer, stop. Fade to black, show the message, cut it, wrap it, show it. Such a simple thing can't hardly be, its a front you know, there are men in little blue suits behind it, running on a wheel, pushing buttons, you don't see them, but they're there.
And if you saw them, then what, other fronts with more little blue men would deny your story, and paint you a crack pot. And maybe you are a crack pot, we're all crazy compared to somebody/thing else. Its a matter of instinct, people, though aware of life beleive they are able to make there own decisions, but are still goverened at their very roots by instinct, and are therefore influenced by a force they can't control.
When you think about it, you'll panic. Not being able to control what you want to do is a kind of imprisonment, imprisonment is bad, and therefore you panic. Panic is an instinct. Funny eh? Its a circle, a circle could be said to be the ultimate balance, the same at every point. At the very root of things, your not in control, you just think you are. You choose the colors for the wall, but the walls there just the same.
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