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the silence inside is a deafening rot of those hills we were supposed to climb... I never needed four hands to get where i was going never needed another opinion to make up one mind, I never needed you to begin with... So this is where i make myself into stone, where i take my way away from your ways and make me myself again... try to touch me inside again, and you'll face an army of me, just waiting to set this rotting heart to pump my vile poisons and hurt you back... ...because i'd be happier if I could erase you from my brain, every day with you, every night with you, every memory of you... I don't owe you a smile. © 1996, h e a t h . h o u s t o n |