when this pain it comes, it comes to see if it can get his roots right into me - the tallest tree, a partly joined settee. but with a weighted sense of irony, will the weight of it begin to breathe some logic in our failed history? but i was never that strong for you – keep it to yourself. oh! if i could put your hand back into mine to stop your fingers breaking every time, trying to get away because you're dying every night. but with a patient sense of patient i, will the patient in me start to fight? forgive me, i'll never get this right. we like the horses in the night-time movies. the sense of freedom and their hooves, they move me.
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