I don't even know if it's finished, but I've had enough.

Sometimes you've got to kill four or five
thousand men before you somehow
get to believe that the sparrow
is immortal, money is piss and
that you have been wasting
your time.

Over it.

My momma, bless her heart, instructed me, 'Don't make personal remarks, never tell a hostess you enjoyed yourself, don't force anything mechanical, never kick anything inanimate and don't fuck around with the inevitable'. Now, Gold, it appeared to me that in disputing with me you were drawing very close to fucking around with the inevitable. I hope I am mistaken.