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cut back
Current mood:
 pensive
in a graceless drunken stupor you cant hardly form a sentence.
"work on your drinking so you can take care of me."
these words shatter.
and i hear them for what seems like perpetuity...
the fuse is close. the explosive ignites with haste
and it repeats tonight except we're not there anymore.
it wont ever stop i fear
you deny it
there is no optimism left.
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