Confrontation is a chemical fire and we’re all brothers in the burn unit. Hearsay and betrayal have led to the disfigurement of timeless bonds. Reconstruction is a handshake away but we’re too fucked up to search for the sutures. What happened to keeping your enemies close? One action is twisted like the winding road we pilot and it’s all downhill from here. I remember when we were all drinking from the same cup. Now the fists fly like molotov cocktails and no one’s thirsty for retribution. Despite gang vocals shouted out automobile windows, you’ve let your hate get the best of you. You’re practicing the opposite of what your foundation preaches, and yeah, I blame every one of you. There’s no chemo for these cancerous dramatics, and you’ll only see the damage after your scalp is smoothed over by the years. By then, it’s too late. Hold back your haymakers. We’re making fools of ourselves.
