Forward from: 𝖼𝖺𝖿𝖾́ 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗈.
Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head, Was it all a disguise, like Junior High?
Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction, Now, where am I?
My fading supply
Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction, Now, where am I?
My fading supply