No one commits suicide because they want to die.

We hovered above the moment like two rain clouds

I am of the theory that all of our transcendental connections, anything we're drawn to, be it a person, a song, a painting on a wall--they're magnetic. The art is the alloy, so to speak. And our souls are equipped with whatever properties are required to attract that alloy. I'm no scientist so I don't really know what the hell these properties are, but my point is we're drawn to stuff we've already got a connection to. Part of the thing is already inside of us.

Everyone feels that void. Everyone who has the balls to look inside themselves, anyway. It's what life's all about.. A search.

Inside every believe, there's a lie.

In his eyes I saw all the other possibilities. The dream-world possibilities. The fairytale possibilities. The seemingly impossible possibilities.

That's the only way I could describe the music. It was the sonic equivalent of flight