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If once I could be seen in colours you'd like. And to exist in eternal memory. Walk on the endless path. Tremble to the never ending noise. If I could be seen in form you'd like. We'll be ghosts. Lost inside the faded memory. Lingering on the path we'll never find. Shivering on the careful silence. If I could be seen. By the eyes outside.

....................................

The beauty of internet. When you don't look hard enough, you'll look like an idiot. Even an internet palm reading services/wacky mind reading people could figure me out instantly.

So if you look hard enough, you can find anything you're looking for. Even the structure of my being. Quit hacking me accounts or pretending to do such because I lie when filling out the information columns. Unless you'd find my skype account, or you're that good, or you've been spending too much time on the net, or you're just mental.

Why bother looking for me. I am actually a 54 year old bearded man living in a cave with a fantastic internet connections, and I absolutely hate everyone. As Roy puts it, People...what a bunch of bastards. And you, bastard, there's a way to get to someone, called email.

Don't look for me. Unless you own LFC and everything else.