Hetch has, does, and will always exist in the backdrafts of hollow midnight city streets, clinging to fear and madness as the sole cause of being.
Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is breathing. Hetch is.
Electro-acoustic composition.
Hate Myspace. It is a joke. A cliche. A sickening window through which one may view some of the most disgusting traits of the human species. But it serves the temporary purpose of holding a few Hetch mp3’s.
Outside of the mind what could have been will never be.