Don't know what it is chemically that keeps dragging us through here
but here we are again regardless.
All these empty houses peering through the brush, empty eyes wide, inquisitive.
All these empty houses, you'd figure people lived here once.
Figure somebody at least.
You'd figure wrong though. (don't know what it is chemically keeps)
Nobody ever comes here 'sides us and we could never live here.
Don't know what it is chemically that keeps dragging us.
Comes up from inside, radiating out and taking pieces off you with it,
broadcasting pieces of you, pollinating you.
Yes of course we've thought about going inside.
We think of everything. It's a debilitating habit.
But you've got to understand.
Not a one of these houses was built.
All these empty houses grow wild.
Regardless, chemically.
Don't know what it is that keeps dragging us through here.

Love,
the dead minotaur

Labels: vistas