Mar 28, 2004 20:58
Desk and hands. I remember when we knew me. I remember when I wished I was where I am now. I wish I could go back. Don't you? Oh sweet irony. I don't hold very much interest anymore. Just walk away. The grave is getting deeper, dear. Come join me. We'll hide away. You won't hurt anymore. Neither of us will. Let's go to sleep.