What is it I have to do when the smoke clears and the city breathes once more to a steady rhythm? You know this isn't normal you know this isn't right so why do we pretend it never happened? A lipstick smile will protect the while but this sweaty miscreant still knows his crime. I will store up my ignore and prepare for next time around bite my lip without a sound but I still crave the bloody death of this pale and flaccid worthless flesh. The city waits with bated breath for the making of a flavoured mess and I know that before start meets end the smoke will roll across again.
