say, did you run through me or was it with me?
it's all the same. 6 of one, half a dozen, holding hands or cleching fists. both are better than what we have here, what we hold dear. this is the end of us. did you piss out this flame, or was it me?
i feel like burning this place down to the fucking ground. this home is broken and i'm standing in the remains of what little remains.