I had my whole life planned.. I knew exactly where it was taking me.
I have to convince myself that this is not a pointless life, even the body is telling me so.
Being the survivor stinks.
Why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?
How hard can it be to find a girl and an elephant for Christ's sake?
Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes I can't find myself any more. When did I stop being me?