exhalations within the confines of my keratin flavour faded red, no match for your deep mahogany i'm red. you're brown. we should get together and have one little, two little, three little indians. i digress. time gets fast, everything gets slow. we just started from a different point of view. there's little honesty in lying between the lines. so give me time, or stop sitting there.asking your watch the time. if i read anymore plath i'll never be able to string more than one cohesive sentence together. or ever one coherent phrase. give me a sign. time is of the essence. an hour here. a few there. not nearly enough to say what's in fine print. my nuerons are fine printing too much for comprehension. it's hard to read it without bifocals.