and there comes a time where you hold on long after you should. after the dead come groping at your arms and legs. hands suffocating you, yet you still breath. you live past life to take care of someone. i know, i've seen it happen, i've watch people sit dead alive to make sure loved ones were happy. and when i think about it, i cant understand why. i cant say i'd stick around for you; i relish to much in the thought of slipping into death to much to care about your sorrow. But I hope, with all hope, that you’d fight that death off for me, and waste away in my arms; just to show your love.