Lipona The Last
(It's a cold, it's a dark, it's an unforgiving place. We can't escape as it takes us as we are, with no biases. It's a cold, it's a dark, it's an unforgiving place, we can't escape, we'll just embrace who we are as our saving grace.) I'm like the beggar on the street, replete with angst and misery, donning these tattered clothes that give me a sense of security. These -- these seas of people change, there is no progress, and our position, it is fixed, unchanging as buildings crumble, replaced by new ones, improve on old ones, the city isin constant flux and these -- all of these things change, We see no progress. We're bound by our faith and fear in the things that we cannot control. We are alone, coping with fate, delusions that guard us from feeling the cold, these tattered clothes. And every time I board a plane or I decide to drive my car, I am reminded of this place, these hand me downs. If only I could get rid of these rigid mechanisms that serve to blind me.
