December 18, 2008
Look at the hills, gleaming with light, running so softly in the sunlight, feeling the cold breeze, past right through me, all of the sudden, I look at the hills, and it's coming right for me, trying to run, as fast as I can, the road feels like it get's longer, by the valley, all creeped out, in a blink of an eye, I pull put my revolver, and I shoot up a storm, but still it follows me, where ever I go, and it doesn't bleed, almost as if, it was a dream, of the pure dead, hearing it's footsteps, along the sides, or even the thought, would send shivers down my spine, I eventually come across a station, I go in, there is no one here, I look around, but everyone is dead, so instead of running, I put a bullet through my head, but before I go, I tell you this , I'll see you in hell.

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