Kompozisyon

Dün Titus'tan Gelecek mi? O da ne? Bölüm biri vermiştim. 

Bugün bölüm iki'yi unuttuğumu fark ettim

 Bir düşün bakalım. 

İngilizce konuşulan bir ülkede ilkokulda kompozisyon yarışması var 

ve çıktın okuyorsun. 

Yakın bir arkadaşın da yüksek not al diye gitarla eşlik ediyor.

PART I

Just give me a suitcase and I'll promise to not look back. Just point me, point me towards the railroad track. I've been staring at the gates, but I've never found a crack, so I'm just looking up, saying, "Deliver me a heart attack." If you're weary, I don't mind sharing the load, just keep me some company on the road. All I've got is a bottle that I ought to leave alone, but it's the only thing that I can call my own, so I'm saying goodbye, and no, I won't forget to write. It's just been too long racing towards a yellow light, and I know that I say this every night, but I don't think I've ever been so tired of life.

And if things should not get better, would you wait for me to change, or would I see you waving goodbye from the window of an aeroplane? If I told you it was hopeless, would you try to understand, or would you leave me for a palm tree and its shadow on the sand? Because I've been waiting all year for the temperature to drop, but now I've got a fever and I don't know how to make it stop. There's still one shoe that hasn't dropped yet. It's hanging on by an aglete. This world seems like a nice place to visit, but I don't want to live in it.

There is not a doctor that can diagnose me. I am dying slowly from Patrick Stickles Disease. There is not a medication that can cure what's ailing me. The only treatment they offer is to hang me from a tree. Life's been a long, sick game of "Would You Rather, so now I'm going to medical school... as a cadaver. Now if I could say only one thing with the whole world listening, it would be, "Leave me the fuck alone... or welcome to the Terrordome." 

PART II

Oh, I recall the last morning the sun would rise on the race of man, after which, it was clear, nothing could be the same again. When called to answer for their crimes, the only response that they could find was that it seemed like a good idea at the time. Now the sun in the sky has turned to dust, the rivers are running red with blood, and the cries of the helpless are never, never enough.

And those of us who were still alive were rightly afraid to go outside, when VuBu said, "This isn't shoegaze - this is suicide." Then they came with torches and pitchforks, carrying clubs, guns and sharp swords, when the loudest voice I ever heard said, "It's over." 

PART III