Tonight you stooped to my level, I am your mangy little whore, now you're trying to find your underwear, then your socks, and then the door. And your trying to find a reason why you have to leave. But I know its cause you think you're Adam you think I'm Eve. You rhapsodize about beauty my eyes glaze everything I love is ugly I mean really, you would be amazed. Just do me a favor, it's the least that you can do. Just don't treat me like I am something that's happened to you. Cause I am, I am truly sorry about all this. You put a tiny pin prick in my big red balloon, and as I slowly start to exhale, that's when you leave the room. And I did not design this game. I did not name the stakes, I just happen to like apples and am not afraid of snakes. But I am, I am truly sorry about this. And I envy you, your ignorance. I hear that its bliss. So I let go the ratio of things said to hings heard, as I leave you to your garden, and the beauty you preferred. And I wonder what of this will have meaning for you when you've left it all behind. I think I'll even wonder if you meant it at the time.