Un-thought Of Heros

Where are we going to be? It's getting so hard to remember to feel. Struggling more and more to recall six minutes worth of a dream, you forgot when you woke up. Died-in-the-wool to last, for the sake of Christ you ask,"What am I to do?" Who is there to trust with one leg already six feet deep? Fighting the current of man's existence of the conciousness you can't fucking grasp. To give, or to take for yourself? Another night spent in silent rage, set against. Set against yourself. 我们要去哪里来呢？它变得这么难记的感觉。挣扎越来越多的召回6分钟值得的梦想，你忘了，当你醒来的时候。死点上，毛最后，基督的你问，为了“我该怎么办？ ”谁是有信任的一条腿已经六英尺深？战斗的人的存在，你不能他妈的把握近代意识的电流。给，还是要为自己？一个晚上花了无声的愤怒，对立。设置针对自己。

Un-thought of heros. 未想到英雄的。

Poured out and flowing over, at the same time bottled up, then pissed out. Company of misery; introspect of the fool, to your dreams you shed a distant effort. While you rid the sense of mobility and shatter all that could set you free. Never could set your hands on comfort in the wars end being your own personal revenge. Yet escaping every sense of consequence. No this is nothing personal; this is just who I am. Another night spent in silent rage, set against. Set against yourself. 倾出并流过，在瓶装的同时，再生气了。公司的痛苦;内省傻瓜，你的梦想，你流下了遥远的努力。当你摆脱流动感，并且粉碎所有可能给你自由。决不可以设置你的手安慰在战争结束是你个人的复仇。然而，逃避后果每一个意义。不，这是什么人;这只是我是谁。一个晚上花了无声的愤怒，对立。设置针对自己。

Un-thought of heros. 未想到英雄的。