I can't bite my tongue forever, or eat my words, so what better way of telling you, other than straight, that i hate myself a little more (instead of wanting...for you) when remembering how i find comfort in your assurance (i created necessity) i guess this is what happens, when you're sorry all the time...well i'm not sorry (it's not your fault that my hands drip with impurity... it was the result of you) and the bitter irony of it all, is that we always knew the truth and look where it got us...where it got us- it led to endless roads (and i've seen the real the walking) of unwanted days (walk straight through my hands) next time I'll be more cautious (but it was you and me for you) and walk around them (we can walk around that) we always knew the truth.