Whoa There.

It won’t be long now, till we know the fate of the world. So c’mon boy it’s time to move along. You’ve worn out your welcome. Stayed just a little too long. Jolly laughs and smiling faces, have turned to looks of scorn. There’s a murder on the horizon, coming to take you home.

Maybe there will be a next time. We’ll burn it fast and bright. We won’t make the same mistakes, we’ll do it all alright. Fuck the pain and misery, we’ve imposed on ourselves. Dust off your fancy jacket boy, and polish up your boots. We’ll have a shot of whiskey, and play our favorite tunes.

The world may go up in flames, but I’ll always see you there. Waiting for those birds, to take you away from here.


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