all our faults, are all my fault i don't hope to die; as i cross my heart maybe my fingers too & if i lie; it's cause i don't wanna injure you every inch of you will cringe by the time this is through have done nothing yet; yet, yet, is motive as this note is, a premeditated notice my guess is, it would hurt you less if my confessions, weren't true or put into question often the truth is hurtful shattering the heart & respect that earned you couldn't fathom if there weren't you while gathering evidence of abandonment, that deserts you in need of a curfew to behave or handcuffs, or a muffle to muzzle my leeway because i'm a deejay; spinning my emotions on the freeway crashing or coasting with passion into a lonesome fatal attraction who wants some, extremely nasty form of relaxing, like three ways don't ask me about, he say she say & don't put it past me, when she slides past me that i'm not glancing & my heart ain't dancing; racing like relays like really; for trouble i'm asking cause i hear me, not trying to mask the mask i'm wearing steering into traffic; clearly fingers crossed, hoping through my faults you hear me & still stay near me putting pause, to my thoughts clearing the walls that i'm painting with tainted paws merely crying for help cheering you on to help save me from myself