It builds. I see not where it leads. I see it is somewhat my own creation. It is also somewhat strange and mysterious. On some level it has nothing to do with me except for the fact that I ride it.
Come and participate, they say. Share with us your pretension. Share with us your self-sabotage and your quirk.
You know not what you ask, I say. Loose this demon and know regret. Revulsion shall ensue. Divert the elderly attention. Hide your sons and daughters. Ready the blinders and kill the volume. They'll never know what hit them.
It occurs to me I do more than hammer cheesy triads. It occurs to me to conceal this thought; dedication is uncool. The fact remains: I love to rip off The Bach. The fact remains: procrastination is my greatest skill.