From Stephen King's It
You can live with fear, I think, Stan would have said if he could. Maybe not forever, but for a long, long time. It’s offense you can’t live with, because it opens up a crack inside your thinking, and if you look down into it you see there are live things down there, and they have little yellow eyes that don’t blink, and there’s a stink down there in that dark, and after awhile you think maybe there’s a whole other universe down there, a universe where a square moon rises in the sky, and the stars laugh in cold voices, and some of the triangles have four sides, and some have five, and some of them have five raised to the fifth power of sides. In this universe there might grow roses which sing. Everything leads to everything, he would have told them if he could. Go to your church and listen to your stories of Jesus walking on water, but if I saw a guy doing that I’d scream and scream and scream. Because it wouldn’t look like a miracle to me. It would look like an offense. -430
He knew that real loneliness was a smeary red: the color of the taillights of the car ahead of you reflected on wet hottop in a driving rain. – 553-554
“Oh shit the time goes by,� –554
…the guy who had played with the Moondogs on Saturday nights and who had gone on to become a mathematics professor at Cornell would suddenly find himself on stage with the band, a Fender guitar strapped over his shoulder, whopping out “Gloria� or “Surfin’ Bird� with gleeful drunken ferocity. What was it Springsteen said? No retreat, baby, no surrender… but it was easier to believe in the oldies on the record player after a couple of drinks… - 575
…in the end he had outgrown the nightmares that were on the dark side of all those laughs… - 576
40 Reasons to Hate Bush
1. The national debt under Bush Jr. has increased so drastically that the average American’s estimated share of national debt will be an astronomical $24,000 - Compared to $500 when Dubya first took office.
2. Under Bush Jr. there are now 43 million Americans with no health insurance.
3. Responsible for an unemployment rate of 6%. There are now 9 million people out of work in America - 3.3 million more than when Bush took office.
4. He cut healthcare benefits for war veterans.
5. Bush Jr. deserted his unit during Vietnam and was reportedly AWOL for over a year from his assigned unit: the Texas Air National Guard, or as it’s referred to by other military outfits, the “Champagne Division�.
6. Despite a 13% unemployment rate among those aged 16-24, Bush Jr. proposed to eliminate Youth Opportunity Grants - a program that provides job training to the nation’s youth. A $225M program in 2002 is now being done away with so Bush can have more money for Iraq.
7. He cut funding for 375,000 low income college students and reduced Pell grant amounts to such a severe degree that it effectively caused 84,000 students to no longer be eligible for Pell grants. Pell amounts have been overall reduced for 1.5 million students... it’s safe to say that the Bush daughters aren’t eligible for financial aid, so this won’t affect the opulent lives of anyone Bush Jr. may know.
8. Withdrew from the International Criminal Court.
9. First President in US history to refuse United Nations election inspectors (during the 2002 US elections).
10. All-time US (and world) record holder for most corporate campaign donations.
11. The Bush administration had twice as many FBI agents fighting the drug war than fighting terrorism prior to 9/11. Even after 9/11, more than 2,000 FBI agents are wasting their valuable time assigned to the war on drugs.
12. His proposed “free trade� agreements would result in the loss of US jobs to foreign markets and the exploitation of third world workers.
13. John Ashcroft.
14. He has taken 11 official executive actions to undermine reproductive rights... how long will it be before a woman is stripped of her right to choose?
15. Failed to fulfill pledge to get Osama bin Laden “dead or alive�.
16. Wasted federal resources on a PR trip to Baghdad where he staged a Thanksgiving meal at 6 AM with troops that were screened based on their political affiliation. And the turkey? It was a prop.
17. His refusal to fire - or even reprimand - Lt. General Jerry “Our God is bigger than their God� Boykin. Perhaps it’s because Boykin said of the President, “George Bush was not elected by a majority of voters in the United States. He was appointed by God. He’s in the White House because God put him there.�
18. After sending troops off to die in an unjust and unprovoked war, he still has yet to attend any soldiers’ funerals.
19. His shameless nepotism for the rich and powerful. Elizabeth Cheney (daughter of ol’ Dick) got hooked up with a cool gig at the State Department where she was in charge of the $129 million Middle East partnership initiative and then was moved over to Daddy and Uncle Dubya’s campaign payroll.
20. He dropped his dog on its head.
21. Bush Jr. is the first President in US history to enter office with a criminal record.
22. Bush Jr. has set the all-time record for most people worldwide to simultaneously protest a leader (10 million people), shattering the record for protests against any person in the history of mankind.
23. He slashed funding to the Violence Against Women act.
24. He has invaded and occupied two countries at a continuing cost of one billion dollars per week.
25. He appointed Charles Pickering, a notorious segregationist from Mississippi, as a federal judge and suspiciously did so on Martin Luther King Day.
26. Bush has spent over $100 billion on Iraq, leaving states to face the largest budget crises in decades and forced to cut off public services; now with the federal deficit at a new high. Bush Jr. wants to award more tax breaks to the wealthy.
27. Under new Bush legislation (the Clear Skies initiative), power plants are allowed to emit triple the amount of highly-toxic mercury into the environment.
28. Bush Jr. failed to protect 3 million acres of the Tongass National Forest from logging. The Tongass has the highest concentration of bald eagles on Earth and has already lost 700 square miles to logging with 33 more logging permits pending. Not even the sanctity of our endangered national bird can compete with Bush campaign contributions provided by the forest industry.
29. He is on pace to have taken more vacation than any president in history, including a 28-day vacation right before 9/11. Bush Jr. has taken 6 months of vacation in total... do you know anyone that gets 6 months of vacation?
30. He pulled out of the Kyoto agreement on global warming, which had been agreed upon by 178 other countries.
31. Bush Jr. is endorsed by fundamentalist Pat Robertson who claims that God told him Bush will win re-election and that “It doesn’t make a difference what Bush does because God is blessing him�. Bush keeps some great company, but keep in mind Robertson was also the nitwit that blamed the 9/11 attacks on gays and suggested that we “nuke� the US State Department.
32. He set the record for most executions by any governor in American history. 152 in total; some of whom were mentally disabled.
33. Has repeatedly stonewalled the public investigation into 9/11.
34. Bush Jr. declined to fully fund the AIDS initiative after promising to do so. The final cuts that resulted were over $2 billion.
35. He still suggests that homosexuals are “sinners� and is pushing legislation that would forbid gay partnerships and deny fundamental civil rights on a national and local level.
36. Choked on a pretzel and nearly lost his life while seated in front of a TV. *should've... damn him...*
37. Bush Jr. has gone to great lengths to prevent investigations of his friends at Enron and Halliburton. More time and money was spent investigating the Monica Lewinsky affair than has been spent investigating one of the biggest corporate rip-offs in history.
38. Bush Jr. has set the record for the fewest amount of press conferences by a President since the advent of television.
39. Responsible for a $521 billion budget deficit - less than 4 years after inheriting a $20 billion surplus.
40. He has made repeated attempts to legalize oil drilling in the National Wildlife Refuge.
*shivers* how disgusting
rendom poetry... of mine, i might add...
Hannah Kane
8/23/04
I wish that I knew you;
why are you this way?
-Why are we so far –
away from each other when I want to
be
so
close to you? I can’t shake
these feelings that I have. I can’t shake
the fact that I love you and want to be with you always. I can’t shake
this feeling that I will die alone.
I will
die
alone and you will be happy.
You will be happy with someone else;
I will
die
alone. You are moving too fast,
you have too much potential.
You cannot wait for me.
I love you.
I miss you.
You are the light of my eyes.
All I can do for right now is sit
here and think unto myself:
why do you want him?
I will
die
alone. You will be happy, but
I will
die
alone.
that's the one, i call it "poem" (yeah, i'm an artist, i'm allowed to untitle my art). this one is called... uhm...*goes and checks* oh, this one is called deaf.
Thunder rolls
and I cannot
hear you
anymore.
woo! comment please!
A song I have fallen in love with - Jaw, Knee, Music by NOFX... my comments in {}
Johnny has a problem
Johnny is out of control
He had a TV party
With the kids in the black hole
Stealing people's mail
And lynching the landlord
{dead kennedys song, let's lynch the landlord... O.o}
Things to do when angry, young and bored
{fortunately, i have the internet...}
Johnny was only a lad
Johnny hates the scene
First he hit an old man
Then he hit and run Pauline
The record player spinning the best times
I never had
So why do my old records make me sad?
Cause they're so bad
And no one seems to understand
The glory of guitar
When out of tune
The off timing
The singers who can't sing
The beauty of love
He's a teenage vegetable
This is the last resort
He's got PCP in his veins
He lives inside a quart
Johnny is a punk rocker
Johnny is he queer?
Johnny needed two bags
And a car to commandeer
Johnny wasn't liked much
But he had a lot of friends
Waits on stage
Eating ludes
A mindless brainwashed pig
Johnny was a good man
Till the day that he got shot
He had a jacked up chevy
That could blow you off the spot
Johnny always needs
More than he takes
Forgets a couple chords
Forgets a couple breaks
Johnny says he's bound
By only six strings to this world
Johnny questions sellout bands
And Johnny pux0rs Ritilin
And Johnny is an angry amputee
This is the poem that goes with the story... heehee...
The darkness falls on the valley;
The darkness falls with the rain.
Come all, darkness fall, it’s an ebony ball;
Come all, to humanity’s bane.
The crops in the fields all have withered,
And the dark wind blows ‘cross the plain,
Night’s sanctuary is down on it’s knees,
Again you will find me, in pain.
Go tell it to those in the city,
Tell those who dwell on the lane.
Go tell it to those who forever pose,
Their lives now half-gone down the drain.
The darkness falls on the valley;
The darkness falls with the rain.
Come all, darkness fall, it’s an ebony ball;
Come all, to humanity’s bane.
The blood shall be spilt around midnight,
Served in goblets on the main.
The lightning shall strike at the heads on the pike,
Not for your renewal or gain.
The flesh of the undead shall wander.
You’ll see gore and gobbets of brain.
And then they will awake at the sole of the lake,
Yea, come heed this grisly refrain.
The darkness falls on the valley;
The darkness falls with the rain.
Come all, darkness fall, it’s an ebony ball;
Come all, to humanity’s bane.
mwahahaha!!! evilness!!!
heehee... a new story... run and hide, everyone!!!
He’d always resented his name. It wasn’t the sort of name a singer had. Staeven Etnom was an apple-seller, maybe an organ grinder, but not a singer. How he’d ended up with a talent for singing was beyond him. He sat, brooding about this, on the curb of the street, watching the wheels roll by him.
Wheels fascinated Staeven, and from his spot on the curb he could see stroller wheels and automobile wheels and buggy wheels and tractor wheels, vending cart wheels and bicycle wheels and motorcycle wheels and rollerblade wheels. Wheels were comfortable and easy, not difficult to understand - all they required was matter to roll on and an axle to hold them in place.
A snatch of song rolled into Staeven’s head on one of those wheels. “And the dark wind blows ‘cross the plain...night’
Clouds blew in overhead, challenging the sunlight to a duel. A clutter of leaves blew down the street like the vampires, calling to Staeven to raise his head. And so he did, looking up to realize that the street was now deserted. There were no longer any wheels, no simple little circlets to keep him company. Staeven shivered, recollecting the similar experience his mother had had prior to...
He cut off his train of thought. Nobody in their right mind wanted to think about such a heinous exigency befalling the reason for their existence.
Staeven suddenly had an urge to go home, something brought on by the sudden rise in humidity despite the chill of the air. Under the iron-cast canopy of the clouds, one little man in one large city hurried home, coat collar up, hands in pockets, acknowledged only by the single, cryptic watcher stepping out from behind the column in front of the citadel.
3 Months Later
It was a dark tavern, to be sure, but what else could be expected of a place on this side of town, at this time of night? A fireplace of embers glowed alongside the bar, casting an eerie sanguine glow over the wooden stools. Two gruff-looking men sat across from each other in a booth to the left, each with what used to be a pint of ale sitting across from them.
Staeven trudged up to the bar, feeling intimidated. Lithe didn’t always stand up well to burly.
A busty blonde in a low-cut, lace-rimmed dress the color of absinthe turned around, wiping her hands on a towel and batting eyes like nighttime floodwaters. “Well, wha’ll i’ be, Jerry?”
Staeven looked around, a little disturbed that he hadn’t seen this Jerry fellow come up behind him. Then it dawned on him, a cymbal crash echoing through an empty apartment building. “Who, me?”
The blonde nodded once, slowly, raising an eyebrow at him.
Embarrassed, Staeven sat down on the stool in front of her, looking at his hands. When she cleared her throat daintily, he looked up to find that more bare skin than most men have on their entire bodies was staring him in the face. Going beet-red, Staeven mumbled his order for a cup of tea.
The blonde flashed bright white teeth and turned away to fix his drink. Staeven closed his eyes, startled by his own idiocy. When he opened them, he found that he may as well have not. The pitch blackness encompassed him, ensorcelled him, ensnared him. The flit of tune passed through his head, as it had begun to do with alarming frequency: “The crops in the fields all have withered, and the dark wind blows ‘cross the plain...”
Shaking his head, Staeven blinked again, opening his eyes to find the blonde woman again, looking oddly at him. “Your tea, Jerry,” she said, hesitation laced through her voice.
Thanking her, Staeven raised the tankard of brew to his lips, only to have his treacherous, shaky hands spill it over the front of his tunic. The waitress, stifling a smile, turned away, then turned back with a towel. “I’ve seen drinkin’ problems, darlin’, bu’ tha’ jus’ beats all.”
Baring his teeth in a sarcastic grin, Staeven mopped himself up with the somewhat grungy towel. One of the two men in the booth pulled out a long cigar; the other man lit the end from across the table.
The blonde returned. “Here,” she said, sliding another tankard across the bar to him. “From th’ look on y’face, I figured y’might need somethin’ a li’l... stronger.” She turned around again, revealing another large expanse of bared skin. She looked over her shoulder, studying him from the corner of her eye. “And if y’need any...” she turned around to face him, “Comfortin’...
She walked off, the little door that provided separation from the space behind the bar to the space in front of it swinging shut behind her. Staeven couldn’t help noticing how nicely her hips rolled beneath the tautness of her dress. The awkward silence that Staeven had found himself trapped in was shattered by the clanging of the bell above the door.
Staeven looked up to see a hassled-lookin
“You’ll wan’ a’drink tha’ afore i’ gits warm,” she said aloud, and it took Staeven a few moments to realize that she was speaking to him. He picked up his glass, looked at it nervously, swilled it around, then downed the whole thing. Almost instantaneousl
“‘Ang on, then! I know ‘oo you is!” she winked at him knowingly. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Y’re gettin’ quoite famous-like, up in th’ eelectric par’ o’ th’ ci’y,” she whispered, leaning in close. Staeven was glad that she, at least, was wearing something sensible: a sort of smock draped over a kimono, both black, arguing with her shocking-blue lacquered fingernails.
One of the men in the booth got up and left. As he did so, his former companion raised his tankard in the air, calling, “Lyza!” The brunette, apparently Lyza, quickly filled another tankard with mulled mead, then walked with it over to the man. “Wot toime d’ y’ ge’ off t’nite, m’dear?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Too laite f’th’ loikes o’you t’be stayin’ up, Mat,” she told him, then walked back to the bar with Mat’s empty glass.
Mat fixed Staeven with an odd sort of stare, sipping at his mead. Staeven, uncomfortable beneath this gaze, paid for the tea that he’d wanted and the whiskey the blonde barmaid had given him, then left a tip for Lyza that made her brown eyes grow as big as dinner plates, and left.
6 Days Later
He’d always hated public performance. Even when he’d just been a teenager, not so long ago, Staeven had had trouble singing and strumming his guitar with the case out in front of him for money, on the sidewalk of the same street with the curb that he’d sat on a few months before, when he’d first seen the watcher.
He could see that dark figure even now, not too far away from where he sat on the stage. A few hundred people and one guitar separated the two of them, but they were the only ones in here, really.
The drummer came in with a cymbal roll; quiet at first, then growing like a tumor until it encompassed the entire hall. The stand-up bass player, Chalie, hit his notes - it was time for Staeven to come in. The song was about a girl who worked in a dark bar, saving up money until she could leave the city that has oppressed her for her entire life. Staeven, signaling to Chalie and Darla, the drummer, to hold up for a minute, stood up to address the crowd.
“I’d like to make a dedication,” he said, his theater voice rolling from his throat like milk with honey, “to a Miss Lyza Partesuom from the Lower East Side, who inspired me to write this song.” There were cheers from the audience; a few, it seemed, had been to Lyza’s tavern, and knew who she was. Staeven found himself wishing that Lyza herself were present, though it appeared not to be so.
With that, Staeven ripped out a guitar solo, ending with the cues from the song they usually played before the barmaid one. Darla churned out an amazing cymbal roll, Chalie came in right on time, and Staeven joined on schedule, playing for three measures before coming in with the vocals.
“Tucked away behind the counter, in the gloom below the floor, taking tips as you take orders; this won’t be forevermore...
Later That Night
Toryl Brendton woke up, shivering, sweat streaming down her face like tears of unremembered evil. Scrambling out of bed, she clicked on the lamp and glanced at her alarm clock. One o’clock in the morning, same as yesterday. She yawned. The nightmares were keeping her awake. She rubbed her eyes; she would get no more sleep this night.
She unconsciously massaged her numb wrists. She hardly noticed the desensitized feeling anymore. They occurred every morning.
Once the blood had returned to her hands, she picked up her notebook, grabbed her inkwell and quill, then scrawled a bit of a note to herself, for later review.
I am deteriorating. I can feel it. The pillars that once supported me crumble and decay; an old elephant shot down by poachers, only to be found lacking in ivory. All I truly have left is my writing, the words written in blood drawn from my spilling veins.
These veins were torn in the dream, the repeating dream that came again last night. I lay on the table, convicted of the crime. They slit my forearms and tore out the veins, ripping my skin as the blood vessels separated from my body.
I have not slept for days. I scrawl, tired, barely able to copy the words that dart like hummingbirds through my mind. I no longer have anything to live for. I am alone.
I walk down the hallway, absorbed in this death that I am living. The people part like the Red Sea as I walk through them. Their faces are blurred, and the paint that made them into the illusion of real runs down as the color makes contact with my tears.
I am not here by my own will. I am not here by the will of anybody else. Therefore I am not here at all. My life is forfeit; my life is void. The coupon that I could have used to buy one and get one free expired years ago. There is no reason left. The feelings are gone.
All but the fear.
Toryl read back over what she had written, slightly unnerved. Trying to make it better, she grasped the quill once again, this time to write a poem. She closed her eyes and opened her mind, letting the words flow on their own.
The darkness falls on the valley;
The darkness falls with the rain.
Come all, darkness fall, it’s an ebony ball;
Come all, to humanity’s bane.
She shook her head. She was off-kilter tonight, that was all.
bwahaha!!! my creature!!! it's called a splishslosh... wahoo, what an original name!
they live everywhere where there's moisture, from seweres to sinks, to showers to lavatories. they resemble small blue spiders with 52 legs and a single body segment. the legs resemble eyelashes and completely surround the body, which also serves as a single, marble-blue eye. the pupil of the eye resembles that of a cat and is jetblack. the splishslosh eats water rats up to 200 times its size and makes a clicking sound somewhat like the aliens in Signs.
mwahahaha!!! a random snatch of story with potential (methinks)
He had been gone for three whole years. As he stalked up the front steps of the house that he had owned in his former life, he
and that's it.
okay, so i'm working on this piece, right? i suppose it's a potential novel, but who really knows? anyway, i've been working on it for about a week, it's four chapters long thus far, with an introduction and prologue, and i've written up this synopsis...
Kaevan, a young man, was sold by his family to a nation of slavers when he was a child. Now, separated from his homeland of Odlar for twelve years, Kaevan is a bitter, hard-hearted teenager who has no real idea why he was given.
The first slave ever to escape the Assenav, Kaevan returns across the sea to take revenge on his old life. He meets up with an old cohort in crime and the two plan to team up, though both have grown up in different lifestyles. Cael has lived the sheltered life of an ascetic, Kaevan the harsh life of an emotion-driven slave.
While visiting Cael at the Wizard’s Hall, Kaevan is discovered by visiting Adepts of the Daear to have the magical ability to travel the Abyss of Time and navigate the River at the bottom. Kaevan is the first being ever to be found that had not possessed the ability at birth, but acquired it during his time of slavery. Unaware that he had this ability; Kaevan is taken in for study.
Naturally, Kaevan is unwilling to leave his plots for revenge just hanging there. So the Daear kidnap him, enabling them to study him in the privacy of their underground fortress, Raead. The location of Raead is more difficult to discover than the workings of human emotions. However, Cael and S’del, Kaevan’s Assenav princess lover, must set out to find their friend and rescue him.
Kaevan, in the meantime, acquaints himself with the River of Time and begins intense physical and mental training to become an Adept of the Daear, though this means that he will not be allowed to live a normal life amongst the people of Odlar. His physical instructor, an ex-military woman named Ailcia, takes a liking to Kaevan, working him harder than all the rest during the day and backing him into corners at night. Slowly, steadily, she makes Kaevan forget all about S’del.
Cael and S’del, meanwhile, draw ever-closer to the Raead, following odd half-clues that come to S’del in dreams. Cael, being a half-trained wizard gone absent without leave from the Hall, is being hunted, traced by his magic. However, he sends out beams of thought in an attempt to find Kaevan.
S’del discovers that she loves Cael in a way she never loved Kaevan. She begins to doubt that Kaevan ever held anything more than lust toward her. Cael intrigues her, however, and she falls in love with his loyalty, perseverance, cunning, strength, sense of insignificance
On the other hand, Cael, who has been surrounded by nothing but males for the twelve years since he joined the ranks of the Wizards-in-Tra
Meanwhile, back at the Raead, a sadistic Adept named Nayr Eiriar begins creating problems for Kaevan, who begins to search for Nayr’s motive while becoming more deeply involved with Ailcia. Kaevan discovers Nayr’s “bachelor attraction” when Nayr backs him into a corner. Nayr, perceiving Kaevan’s empiricism, banishes Kaevan to the Dungeons of the Raead to be put through pain until his mind breaks. Kaevan tries to shield himself from the pain with magic and ends up using so much magic and so many curses that he summons the Accursed, entirely by accident.
The Accursed, thankful for their release from their prison at the bottom of the River of Time, release him, willing to allow him to join their ranks and become immortal, preserved forever outside the River, with his life force bound to it. There is one condition: he must kill his best friend, directly, in an act of first-degree murder. Kaevan sets out to kill Cael.
S’del and Cael traipse onward, trying to locate the unlocatable Raead. One night, they are sitting by a lake, lost, desperate. Both admit their passion for the other and are indulging it when Kaevan creeps up on them from behind.
Seeing S’del in Cael’s arms, Kaevan becomes mad with jealousy and uses magic to smother his best friend. Cael, rather than have his blood on his best friend’s hands, takes S’del’s cast-aside dagger and plunges it into his heart.
Realizing what has happened, yet unsure of Kaevan’s state of mind, S’del removes the dagger from Cael’s heart and throws his body across a log. She stabs herself. With her last moments, she shoves the log into the lake and throws her own body over it. They both drift off, bare, on the log. They plunge out of the lake via a river and over a waterfall.
Discovering what he has done, Kaevan draws the Mark of the Daear on the beach, enters the River of Time, and tries to bring them back to life. Trying to prevent himself from killing his friends, he kills his future self. Kaevan is annihilated, erased from history, never existed.
Epilogue: Cael becomes a traveling wizard and goes to Assenav, where he meets and falls in love with S’del. They elope together to the remote woodlands of Odlar, to the very shores of the lake where they once died.
well, that's sorta how it goes... does it suck?
peace,
*~sebhar~* drunken traveling bard of wrath
heehee... first diary entry!!! wahoo for me!!! ok, some writing... written when my friends and I were writing poetry back and forth during a fight, as you might gather...
I am sorry, dear friends, but you have changed, too.
I no longer feel I should hang out with you.
For one who would take what a friend should recieve
Deserves not that friend, so I've come to believe.
When friend fears her friend, there is no reply.
When friend loses friend, she need not ask why,
For the answer is clear. It is plain to see
That you no longer wish to hang around me.
I won't twist and shout, nor deny what you said.
I won't cry the tears, but hold them 'til you're dead.
I just what you to think about what I have written.
My feelings are no harmless calico kitten,
But a monster, once living under my bed
Now emerged, to bring tidings of that which I dread.
You were kind once, and I was the same,
But we are caught up in that unending game.
And I never thought it would happen to us.
We biked, we swam, had fun on the bus,
Do you remember all the inside jokes?
We took pictures and had laughs... now I hang by a rope.
It's a short, clique-y rope that I will not climb,
For the relief at the top is not so sublime
As the friends that will come along down the road.
There, no one envies, nor does power corrode.
I could not have said this the right way with prose.
Our new-shattered friendship quite clearly shows
That if there is nothing here that will make things change
Off of this rope, I may have to hang.