The hand thats been held for so tight, for so long finds fingers too weak to put up any resistance. so i say cut off the hand that does body harm, that's rocking the cradle, won't let baby leave. intimidated by choices, scared sh**less of change. better highways and a flag just aren't enough. no. i want to be watched every minute and second and let someone legislate my every f**ing decision. like an infant whose elected its own nanny and cries and whines when left on its own. and fussily clamors for its a** to be swabbed with the best pages of the constitution that doesn't leave room for much else. let me play the role of the victim. tell me what i can and can't do. you see, i've got this addiction to seatbelts and curfews. i'm sick with withdraw when... whenever i make my own decisions. i need your protection. i need your discipline. because without it i'd probably f**ing wet myself.