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The time has come for a much needed evaluation. My feelings are so deep it's clearly more than Freudian. With all the damage done, I'm so numb. You're blind, deaf, and dumb, like Helen Keller but my miracles aren't working for us. What will it take for me to to get it through your head? Your lack of words is like pumping my guts full of lead. You motion. It's too late, this is fate. I'll reciprocate. I'm trying hard not to be wanted in all 50 states. Theres no rest for the wicked, and you look tired as hell. When I'm through no amount of clapping will bring you back, I swear. Your secrets out and you're trying to me to say that, "I'm the one that's to blame and I'm sorry" Guess what? That's just tough. You're so out of luck because there's no way that I'll sign over the rights to our story. So you can cry and tell the world that you're fine as you harvest broadway lights and neon signs, as some form of bragging rights. But you'll be lucky to get "lifetime". As if a street makes a difference, if you crawl that far I'll bring a gun to your opening night. There's no rest for the wicked, just click your heels and your home, But that was just a movie baby, so watch me rock and roll. I'd securely place your head in one of jigsaws toys. Watch it pry open your mouth to see your jaw rest on your neck, and see those beautiful words come pouring out.