Where the fuck do they come from? You wonder....Is it me? Duck and weave..POP POP POP, oh this boy's a bleeder, won't be long now I drop back , fake and POP POP POP...Just stay down, and I'll just walk away. I'm quite content in not ever meeting you again, but...aht aht aht...stay down. But they don't, and I , the captive audience, is left with nothing but my will to survive. Backed up and jacked up, deftly moving left, then right, kick my way in, and punch through. There are always more to replace the fallen, however. They are relentless lot, blind with voracious appetites and slow reaction times. POP POP, my arms are tired and I want it to stop. POP POP. It's like I'm swinging at nothing.
joscelyne:
