The cold breath of fear, my friend, freezes your air. You find yourself choking on to your dream, on to your fantasy, your reality. How do you beat the fear? How do you win? How can you prevent it from the ruin?
I have this very precious thing in my fragile hands, shaking. I don't want to give it up, I don't want to let it go, but I know I cannot taste it while my hands are clenched on top of it, but I know once fear smells the sweet smell of what I am holding, it will claim it. But until then, I will keep my hand closed tight on top. I will make sure, fear will not have its name written all over it.
I will hide it.
Billy the Kid
Then I open my hands, just to take a peek at the beautiful thing I was holding, and I am rendered breathless. It is gone!!!! How could it be gone? I had my hands over it, all this time. Where could it have gone? I had my hands over it all this time.
What did I have in my hands, all this time? Did I even have anything within my palms? Did I mistake the warm breeze with that beautiful thing? But I was sure, I had seen it, I had felt it. It was there. It must be still there. I still can feel its warmth and weight, I just cannot see it. I want it back, you hear me devil, who snatched it off of my hands and hopefully will return it back without selling it...
I want my precious possession back. I want to see it back. Because the fear is gone. Because fear cannot touch it this time. Because this time, the warmth it radiates will melt my heart, and finally set me free.
I want it back, hear me you devil!!!!!
You got me into this mess, you get me out!
Billy the Kid