Il testo della Minute

Another day chock full of choices of things to hate another forehead, cobwebby, dull, throbbing, almost pain ... another obstrusive reminder of things i hoped were long gone gone and forgotten, my stomach feels rotten my shoes are all soaked and my socks are all cotton my insides are black from the smoking and pain and every damn song is fucking the same this same goddamn train glides soft through the rain and i sit and dizzily wait .......