siphoning sorrow and pushing daises, this roadside vendor has jars of treatment to cure what ails you.
don't mind the crooked hands, the crooked smile and the strange intention.

because he was like you, thinking that he was feeling enough pain to suffice the world for suffering.
but we're all connected, lest we are tuned differently and still create the symphony.
and through the symphonic connection, we're all acknowledging the sadness between our own gravestones.
my mind minds the others, the others mind me. i apologize, we apologize for the inconvience.

it's not my mind that shatters so, but the world that slowly breaks apart in front of me.
let's not forget...
forget...
the clarity.