A complete absence of hope has begun to fill these clogged arteries, and birds that sang in my arrivals and achievements have gone on to hang themselves with these energy-lacking power lines that string themselves repeatedly between my ears. If only I could just reach inside and revive these broken bones and bruised aspirations, all would be right again. It's only fair that we should be able to fix ourselves. Or if some futuristic factory existed where new thoughts, ideas, hopes and dreams were simply planted upon us one by one on some massive assembly line and as we exited we had this new way of looking at this grand old world of ours, and maybe if we're lucky, we can stop draining the world of everything she possesses and just drain ourselves again and again