where the writers are
Everything you do

It was a month ago
Was it a year?
I lost my head in a cloud of smoke
It was over 20 years ago 
And I'm damed if I do, and I'm damed if I don't
That is how it is now I believe
It's all a joke
And yeah fuck history,
And fuck the past
But why does it dig so deep in the body 
And where is the end?
I've mourned so long
Just not straight in the head
Everything you do
Matters in the end
How sufficient now
Now that I bare no answer to a shredded thread
I just reason