I climb upon this ladder of uncertainty. I am lost in this fog. I need to reach out, but I don't know where I will be taken. I find myself lurking among stupidity in the face of curiosity. That's all it is... But I'm too scared to fight it. I can't fight it. I won't. I'm shaken off my feet, caught in this whirlwind, once again, oh but once again, a many more times in probability. I'm shredded to the very finest of texture, and yet I complain. This lazy confinement i have figured is taking it's toll. I listen to 60's music, and it calms me. I used to hate 60's music. I just don't understand. I fight you in the face of idealism, but what I need is realism, that is you, but do I really. No one knows, and no one will ever know. I figure things to my advantage and I figure my advantage to society... A terrible thing, a vicious cycle, and yet I partake in such. I don't really know you, I only know what has become of you, but what are you, who are you, how can I tell, and I am lying to myself. Time can only tell the face of these manners, only time can bring upon understanding. But time used is time wasted... Or is it?