A madman,
a sweaty-toothed madman
I close my eyes
His image flicks beside me,
with a stare that pounds my brain
His hands reach out and choke me
All the time he mumbles slowly,
Truth . . .
Truth is like a blanket that always leaves your feet cold!
Stretch it, pull it, it will never cover any of us
Kick at it, beat at it, it will never be enough . . .
From the moment we enter crying,
to the moment we leave dying,
it will cover just your head as you wail and cry and scream.
(From Dead Poets Society - By Todd Anderson)
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