You know what's
wrong with you, Miss
Whoever-You-Are? You're chicken,
you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay,
life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because
that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness."
You call
yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you're terrified somebody's going to
stick you in a cage. Well, baby, you're already in that cage.
You built it
yourself. And it's not
bounded in the west by
Tulip, Texas, or
in the east by Somaliland.
It's wherever you
go.
Because no matter
where you run,
you just end up
running into
yourself.