Let me utter my disappointment to you. Something's leaked and now everyone's drenched in it. I shudder at the thought of how much more anyone can be drenched. That particular hole on your face was meant to shut. Your ears were only meant to hear, and eyes, see. And now you couldn't bear the sweetness of gossip dancing on the tip of your tongue, you had to spill. And spill it was you did, on what was given to you in trust, which, may I remind you, you have totally demolished. Colours ran by you hey? No one else could have seen it hey? But maybe the colours you might have seen was those of yours instead haven't you thought?