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i dont toss words around. like a poker hand, just there to be throw away if nothing good is coming. i dont throw statements around like a handshake. like a top of the morning to ya. not, when i say thing, most of the time anyways, it is a piece of me, trying desperatly to reach out. to grap hold of something important. my words are worn. each one carries the weight of my intent and meaning. |
� 2003 Andrew Price
