Won't it be nice dear old Boss to have the good ole times once again
the conductor died on the railroad tracks. i slit the throats of the vermin who crawl there at night. in and out and in and out. disease and hopelessness corrode and infest all that once was held proud at the cutting of the ribbon. the coughing and gagging at the scene are masked in laughter. you spit up like the innocence you threw away all those lonely nights. your inner-child lays still next to your unborn. hush. your womb ripped from you as i, from mine.