Drunk and out of breath I recap on the night. I remember lights and sirens. Why am I out of breath? Where am I, and why am I hiding? Did this have anything to do with me? If it did, then how many drinks did it take to get me past the breaking point? How long until I've no recollection of the grey matter that lives between real and make believe? I take a deep breath and realize; this is what it's like to live free. This is what it's like to do whatever the fuck you want to do, and get away with it. This is just another fond memory that ill tell to my grandchildren. That is... when I'm told the story of what really happened.
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