there's a {martyr} in my bed tonight .:. south
Jan 26, 2013 20:42:24 GMT -5
Post by Lei on Jan 26, 2013 20:42:24 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i49.tinypic.com/2mgwdh5.png); width: 460px;cellpadding,0,true;] Let's take a better look beyond a story book And learn our souls are all we own before we turn to stone Let's go to sleep with clearer heads, and hearts too big to fit our beds And maybe we won't feel so alone before we turn to stone Today is my day off, so to speak. Or night off, whatever you want to call it. All I know is that Dempsey and Winters went off on some sort of mission of their own somewhere in the heart of the District (I was under the impression the famed Prince of Poison cared about whether or not he has a tongue, but to each their own, I suppose.), and I don’t care to know where Tarquin is at the moment, so I'm going to use the spare hours I’ve apparently been given to take off that damned tin can piece of junk Dempsey calls a "badge" and get a few hours of well-earned sleep. I’ve been running on fumes for the past few nights, slinking around the District under the cover of darkness and gathering whatever intel needed for the Streetrat cause, and I’ve recently been finding myself dozing off on Dempsey’s couch after such excursions, despite how it reeks of sweat and poverty. And when Beryl Shore falls asleep on a mangy old couch in some run-down shack on the most obscure corner of the District, you know the kid needs some time off. And if you wait for someone else's hand, you will surely fall down If you wait for someone else's hand, you'll fall, you'll fall I know that I am nothing new, my words might not seem much to you But brother, how we must atone before we turn to stone |