i may bleed for you, but you have too... i mean, by that... we have wars spinning wounds within us before we let another, havoc our tranquilities - before the heat of glowing brands have risen from the hot coals of your dove wet eyes... Yea, i may be stammering - but my murmurations maroon the realities of lost conviction and in my place stands my name on a hard target. i may bleed for you, but you have too... you're slow in the woods where briar lurks on rat feet. and it always rains when you go to the Fair