Iwrestledabearonce Letters To Stallone
It's a sign of the times
The impression that you made
Glossed over by a wave
A golden lining in your grave
Beneath the dirt it's all the same
Last night I saw a thousand faces in a line
And I could not recall a name, no, I could not recall a time
When I
I needed someone to move me,
Not someone to save me,
Just someone to move me,
Not someone to
Change
Things
Des-
Perately
I think mediocrity
Is this the key?
I can't
I won't be
I won't be
I won't be sitting there now
Break me out
Misery
I see the dead eyes in the crowd
Feel them all turn at once
Let me out
It's a sign of the times
There's nothing to gain
This world was never mine
It's not mine
I let the hive mind consume me
I can feel them all moving
I can feel
Last night I saw a thousand faces in a line
And I could not recall a name, no, I could not recall a time when I
I needed someone to move me,
Not someone to save me,
Just someone to move me,
Not someone to-
The perception that you crave
From conception to the grave
Does not mean shit to me
I'm not a product of
I'm not a product of my name
The perception that you crave
From conception to the grave
Does not mean shit to me
I'm not a product of
I'm not a product of my name
The perception that you crave
From conception to the grave
Does not mean shit to me
I'm not a product of my name
