I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed. You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road.
Bob DylanAbout author
- Author's profession: Musician
- Nationality: american
- Born: May 24, 1941
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whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm. yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.
William Shakespeare