"But there are lots like us, with no grave but the stage."

Saturday, April 17, 2010

the truth is you see troops, not children.

my strap snapped and my belt ripped all in the first minute of the second song.

one bruised lung, a black eye, and a bloody lip - all in one major-bearded blow -
seem to be signs and symptoms of a good show.

it feels good to be back under the lights, sweating profusely, again.
as the rain fell on us, it rinsed away the old and showered us with the new.

let's just take it one day at a time.

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