I swear the moon turned a fire red
Well my poor mother cried out “lord, the gypsy was right!”
Unknown person dies: not many mourn. That is our certain obituary in the eyes of the rest of the world. So who are we to indulge our egotism and make a fuss?
—Julian Barnes (via human-voices)
If I was young, I’d flee this town
I’d bury my dreams underground
As did I, we drink to die, we drink tonight