spilt on spinning another metal-goodnight another "I hope we're alright" darling it's Sunday honey it's numbers like, four and ten; it is fourteen, I'm spent I'm done saying I'm bent and yours and-or-hers, I'm again I am, against this might as well say tired, my god I'm allowed to be quiet I can't fix tired or change what's burnt I won't move for you if it hurts I won't if it hurts & I can float from humility but I won't if you serve it I do not think it is worth it