my knife isn’t as sharp as yours.
my cuts aren’t as clean or keen.
my bark is worse than my bite.
i bleed and bruise easily.
i never said i was tough,
but i never run from a fight.
new blues from Un Amico at 23:08
ID: my goddamn blues, random
Jeremiah 17:9
the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked; who can know it?
TITUS:
Why, tis no matter, man: if they did hear,
They would not mark me, or if they did mark,
They would not pity me.
Therefore I tell my sorrows bootless to the stones,
Who, though they cannot answer my distress,
Yet in some sort they are better then the tribunes
For that they will not intercept my tale:
When I do weep, they humbly at feet
Receive my tears and seem to weep with me,
And were they but attired in grave weeds,
Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
A stone is as soft wax, tribunes more hard than stones:
A stone is silent and offendeth not,
And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death.
1 got them goddamn blues:
Oooh, I love those last two lines.
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