The Art Of Caring Testo

I look around this smoke filled enclosure I don't see much. A few pretty faces, a glass of Victorias finest, a masquerade party (theres a girl here in red pyjamas) and theres one or two that either look confusing to me. Trying not to look like they dont belong to anyone or anything. They don't belong to anyone. One big pot of steaming sameness. One gets the feeling that the air hasnt moved here in years. Forget you. Forget me. She thinks that this is really boring. I feel like that most of the time but theres something deeper that drives me to keep trying. One day youll hate it and then another you'll turn around and try and make it seem more satisfying than it was before. Something to rise you up and out of it.