I get to the lip of the cliff, but I just won’t finish.
Invisible hands come and rip me off of it. My invisible hands are good for grasping dreams, but can’t seem to help me when I’m falling. When in reality, do as reality does, so in order not to get screwed I climb my mountains with rubber gloves.
I’m perfectly insulated, and completely ill equipped.
I’m like a moving target on an underwater ship… my dark clone doesn’t bother shooting at me because I’ll drown as it is… my dark clone is me… Eminem’ s evil twin… I live to give him existence.
My fingers are bleeding again and I’m slippin…