"I close my eyes, and this image floats beside me. A sweaty-tooth madman with a stare that pounds my brain. His hands reach out and choke me. And, and all the time he's mumbling. . . Mumbling, truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold. You push it, stretch it, it'll never be enough. Kick at it, beat it, it'll never cover any of us
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