On the border of beyond and
nowhere fast, I forward
marched through mines. My
best friend Rover by my
side... my guide - he ran
before me. Scoring bones of
dead explorers scattered in
the dust... it makes a plate
that's fit for pedigrees. It's
minus x degrees + falling.
And I'm thankful for the
gloves they gave me. I'm
thankful for the mask when
they sent me to the front
armed with a white flag + a
mask. "Go win their
confidence," they said, "then
steal their money - shoot
them dead. We'll split things
50-50."
Now I don't believe in
promises.
I don't believe in you.
I don't believe in anything...
would you?
