Sunday, April 3, 2011

7

They say it's spring, I could make it fall. In the loneliness of the house, silence keeps screaming fear. 'Cause I get breathless in here, get me out. Get me out, I can't stand here. I can't stand silence. It brings me what I want to forget. It brings truth, bitter truth. It brings out our memories. And it comes in all shapes and sizes.

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