Man, what happened to you? We used to chill late night, smoke joints and drink beers together, talk about bitches and watch a football game. Now you're all into this "autistic" shit. Whats up with that?
Why're you so perfect? Why do I feel soft and squishy everytime I see you? Why do I feel excited when you play with me? Why do I feel that life's so colorful when you exist?
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
samantha
