"When will they stop? The voices have now become loud and and fused. Its hard to hear individuals, are there any singularities? No. They are all repeated. Appropriated from one another, stolen from her mind, his book, this film and those songs.
Originality has died, yet again.
Only to be ressurected tomorrow, and destroyed once, twice. And repeat."
Its become a cycle now. Tradition even. I take on some of you, you take on some of him, he takes on some of her and she steals much of it from me.
My head hurts. The cycle continues. There is far too much of a lack of individuality in this smallishly connected world.
So go on, be some more of me and I'll be some more of him and he'll..
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