Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose
washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health low
cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed intrest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home.
Choose your friends. Choose lesiurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire
purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a
Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game
shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all,
pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish,
fucked up brats that you spawned to replace yourself.
