I stay inside my bed I have lived so many lives all in my head don't tell me that you there really isn't anything, is there? you would know, wouldn't you? you extend your hand to those who suffer to those who know what it really feels like to those who've had a taste like that means something and oh so sick I am and maybe I don't have a choice and maybe that is all I have
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neocities.org/site/ymmi