Vincent

I'm only screaming because I don't know if anybody can hear me here, I'm still alive, I'm not sure if you noticed. Hating every moment I spent, Don't have anything to look forward to In a day, week, month, year. Wasted feels my existence too. Does swallowing yellow paint help? What would you recommend? Or should I cut my ear off To escape, my friend? The moon and I don't talk anymore, Can't say I can blame him though. He asked for a address, dear My broken home has no window. I'm sorry, never meant to interrupt. I was just checking if I'll be missed. Conclusion - starry night and gunshot make a lovely pair.