It's not a musical journey anymore. They chose Camilla and we stood by her the entire time. Monotonous expression. A forced replica of a tired sound. Puppets for a greed-driven carnival. The same charade as the passing years force me out there. Don't give them a chance. They want to be fed. Fed a simple replication of past greatness. Step back. We just need to throw some new ideas in. It will eventually get out of this closed off circle we are part of. We are part of, get out of this closed off circle. The same! This is all we have when we die. It's what's left of us when we die. We will be remembered for this. White walls.