cigarretes and a good old folk song

sick of it all. can't even write. at least not in english. but, who the hell am i'm trying to cheat? never could write in portuguese too. so i just stand here, in front of the fuckin pc, tiping letter by letter, word by word, never founding why. i've been drinking so much less and smoking so much more, and my old tought's keep laying in my head like it always been. it's so hard to find a way out when you don't even know where to start. it's so hard to start when you don't even know where you'll get out. it's so hard to do any fuckin thing at any fuckin' time just because some reason keep telling you to go on. and you go on. and on, and on, and it's always that, always that, never getting better, oh, never getting straight. setting to the sun. setting thru your mind. just wasting my time. I know it's all bullshit. You know it too. Maybe we just have to sit here and light cigarretes listening to a good old folk song. it will get better. I hope so.