It's a story about heroism, story about a man's quest to discovering his true self. It's a story of true contradictions and criminal convictions. Self destruction among the people with some serious mental distractions. It's a story of faltering predilection towards unnatural affections. It's a story like no other that has ever been told. It's a story that has never been told. Be it cold or be you sold. If nothing else, the story for sure is adamantly bold. In a card game it would never fold. Never fold.
Delusions. You can't live with them, you can't live without them. It's a fact of life. Whether you believe we are all delusional or not, is not important. We all have our own delusions, either knowingly or not. But we all have them. I can prove it. I could prove it, that is, if I only had the time. Unfortunately life happens unexpectedly and right now I can do nothing, but tell you my story. Everything must be kept away, for now. We simply don't have any time for it. Because by the time the story has ended, I'll be dead. My body will be ripped into 161 pieces and buried in the mud in the bottom of your local creek.
I am an escape artist and that is my trick. If you don't know what it means - I'm just like you, with the exception that I am an expert on escapology, the practice of escaping from restraints or other traps. As an additional merit, I'm invisible. But this is not important, for now. Neither is invisibility something I like to talk about, even the word itself tends to frighten people, especially during one-on-one conversations. Last time I spoke with someone during her shower time she thought I was a poltergeist.
Talking. Talking is overrated, overrated by everyone. Can talking actually produce any value that wasn't there before you started talking? I don't think so. Escaping. Escaping from the jungle called stage, that's something. Something special.
Delusions. You can't live with them, you can't live without them. It's a fact of life. Whether you believe we are all delusional or not, is not important. We all have our own delusions, either knowingly or not. But we all have them. I can prove it. I could prove it, that is, if I only had the time. Unfortunately life happens unexpectedly and right now I can do nothing, but tell you my story. Everything must be kept away, for now. We simply don't have any time for it. Because by the time the story has ended, I'll be dead. My body will be ripped into 161 pieces and buried in the mud in the bottom of your local creek.
I am an escape artist and that is my trick. If you don't know what it means - I'm just like you, with the exception that I am an expert on escapology, the practice of escaping from restraints or other traps. As an additional merit, I'm invisible. But this is not important, for now. Neither is invisibility something I like to talk about, even the word itself tends to frighten people, especially during one-on-one conversations. Last time I spoke with someone during her shower time she thought I was a poltergeist.
Talking. Talking is overrated, overrated by everyone. Can talking actually produce any value that wasn't there before you started talking? I don't think so. Escaping. Escaping from the jungle called stage, that's something. Something special.
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