Last Wards paint is fading on all the walls and the roof is full of holes. outside my window, sunlight paints landscape on a realistic screen. today i can't go out, so it may as well by all imagined, a creation of some great intelligence we barely understand. then there's that crumbling building, with its own stories. i feel a connection with a past that never was mine, real nevertheless, paint is fading on all the walls and the roof is full of holes.