If only you had asked for conviction, suddenly our future is not what it used to be. You have gone and thought this out of shape; suddenly our future
This hiding from the truth is an exhaustive task. We're strangers in the end, whose eyes won't meet again. With our time at hand there's a litany of
I would leave and never breathe a word of this, while you haul bad news around with you. I'll wait with breath abated. I'll wait with breath abated.