I tell you this old heart is covered in glue
I've been thinking, with the demise of yet another 'relationship' that there really isn't any point. I'm becoming more and more disillusioned. Whats the fucking point? I'm not sure how many more times I can meet someone new, go through the motions of opening up, sifting through all the shit that you hold inside you, sharing it, reliving it,
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