do fucked-up things when fucked-up things become ordinary. i can't promise utopia or

a better world. i have no

Er lures. no harsh punishment if you don't bite the hook. it's a world of shit or

bust. there's no escape from disappointment. when you commit heart and soul to

earning your place, someone else

Have to cheer you on. what are you capable of? you can be the one to string them up

and beat them to death. when you cut the bodies down, you'll see the face of your

failure and shame. this is a

D of professional liars: a bleating chorus of tempered truths, who like pealing

church-bells echo its' virtues sung over and over and over again. rotting at the

bottom is better than living as a

. i can't find the meaning in the great achievement. when you commit heart and soul

to earning your place, opportunity kills common sense