1:48 a.m. - 2007-10-10
White Machine
It might be a side-effect that the line has been erased. Unable to distinguish white from red, but that's quiet alright. Perhaps it might be that we had too much white since we believe that we were both inlove. My heart is beating faster and faster, as you run your hands accross my chest; but I should've known it was only the cocaine. It's too late, can't redo an erased line, it's too late, for you and I.

My baby was my everything, then she digitized and became just a number,\"What a shame\". Lost in her infected little brain, believing in lies about fame, inside her coked-up head. She's lost somewhere in some New Jersey Station, God spare her, but we all choose our own destinations. I have no pity for machines with defections.