You Bought Me Some Forks. And Knives.

You Didn't Have To Take A Punch For Me, You Know,' He Said. 'i'm A Lover, Not A Fighter.' 'you're A Freak Is What You Are,' I Said. He Stuck Out His Hand. 'come On, Slugger. Walk With Me. You Know You Want To.' And The Thing Was, Despite Everything I Knew-that It Was A Mistake, That He Was Different From The Others-i Did. How He Knew That, I Had No Idea. But I Got Up And Did It Anyway.

Funny How A Beautiful Song Could Tell Such A Sad Story

Sometimes. It Was A Good Escape. Until, You Know, It Wasn‟t.

He Was The Closest Thing I'd Ever Had To Something, Or Someone, That Mattered. But In The End, Close Didn't Count. You Were Either In, Or You Weren't.

Call It Crazy, Or Just Chicken Salad.