How long will you bounce off the walls
of meta jail?
Making small talk in the yard?
Yes, it's going good.
Everybody talks. Eventually.
I know.
I didn't ask.
I know.
Eleven years is a long time, bun.
I know, but you think you can steal from me.
Knowing that I didn't know stealing was wrong?
Knowing there was nothing much I could really do
about it? Knowing no recourse?
Knowing no source of my own?
Knowing there was only one power plant
shoving off the juice then?
Knowing I couldn't see an open door
if I stumbled into it?
Eleven years is a long time.
Fuck you, it is. It is and I know.
I haven't forgotten.
Memory is long.
Haven't you a cassette you'd like to play. The stereo is
the same. Let's have some music.
Let's have some music. I would love nothing less.
A little Bach, prehaps prehaps?
I've always been a fan.
1998
Tick it over.
Roll it over.
Where it began, aye? Yes.
The long war. The long stripes.
The good kettle, yes?
Quietly, you know
I want what you owe me.
I'm going to get it.
"...if you go down there, you are going to die..."
Listen to them, honey. You are.
A little kiss, honey. You are.
You are, you are, you are.
It's not a myth.
It's not a story to tell your grand grands.
I am not the bogey man.
I was born like many before,
and I have not forgotten our score.
"...if you go up there, you are going to die..."
Rolling back the dial.
Ticking it over.
I love this song.
Right the wrongs, now yeah?
We've had a good run, yeah?
Aye okay, if I might add.
I'll whistle on my way to visit.
I will visit, yes.
"...if you go down there, you are going to die..."
fantastic, they said.
Like pixels, they said.
Complete the picture, they said.
You cannot scream in a funeral home, they said.
I'll make time.
There's time for everything. Scha-wing! Rimshot.
I'll bring a flower on a Tuesday,
a very disappointed day of the week.
"...if you come up here, you will die..."
Visit the hole in the ground. I don't eat pets.
How nifty would it be
if the eulogy was written by
someone incapable
after you drilled into me.
I hope you learn to laugh some day,
genuinely. Awake is a wake except
when it's a party.
Roll it over.
Where it began, aye? Yes.
The long war. The long stripes.
The good kettle, yes?
Quietly, you know
I want what you owe me.
I'm going to get it.
"...if you go down there, you are going to die..."
Listen to them, honey. You are.
A little kiss, honey. You are.
You are, you are, you are.
It's not a myth.
It's not a story to tell your grand grands.
I am not the bogey man.
I was born like many before,
and I have not forgotten our score.
"...if you go up there, you are going to die..."
Rolling back the dial.
Ticking it over.
I love this song.
Right the wrongs, now yeah?
We've had a good run, yeah?
Aye okay, if I might add.
I'll whistle on my way to visit.
I will visit, yes.
"...if you go down there, you are going to die..."
fantastic, they said.
Like pixels, they said.
Complete the picture, they said.
You cannot scream in a funeral home, they said.
I'll make time.
There's time for everything. Scha-wing! Rimshot.
I'll bring a flower on a Tuesday,
a very disappointed day of the week.
"...if you come up here, you will die..."
Visit the hole in the ground. I don't eat pets.
How nifty would it be
if the eulogy was written by
someone incapable
after you drilled into me.
I hope you learn to laugh some day,
genuinely. Awake is a wake except
when it's a party.
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