For Over Year

They knew. But they knew before. So what does it matter? We've got axes to grind and hobbies and television to numb, not to speak of our pharmacopious quantities of backwash, choked down under the barrel of a state that only cares about putting its palms up for your bullets, for you; on the sure shot, I wish I could have. We aren't our own worst enemy we are the planets, and I'm sure you have some nice psycho name for it, but I'll take its beauty over our false and comic dominion any day of the fucking week; and fuck you if you can't take a few fucks. That's how we speak! I'm sorry precious. Drag it out like Tolkien. Take down your gun and go to school, because what else was hunters information class for if not for learning how to lay them low? To pwn for just one time, before you squeeze last, or get dropped.