You came to me an empty shell. Or so you said. Your mask, your fake, your facade insidious with disregard. Take me take me take my broken spirit.....such an easy target....Kitchen Radio providing the soundtrack for the beginning of the end. The end of chances to be the center of someone's universe. Mr. Kirby and Ralph can attest: I was just a target....a country to be conquered. No war torn ruins for you to lord over. The only kingdom you rule is regret. Shine on with your patina of tarnished deeds. Let your isolation feed your lonliness..... so desperately sad that no heart is safe from your wrath. Blow upon blow-your words and silence each a fist for your fix. Your love a poison without cure......like Midas with no use for gold.