|
sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc
we gladly feast on those who would subdue us
On a field of vermilion, a disembodied head... he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be living... until he bites ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then... ah then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin'....
__________________
We must all go through a rite of passage. It must be physical, it must be painful, and it must leave a mark.
I have no knowledge of the events which you are describing, and if I did have knowledge of them,
I would be unable to discuss them with you now or at any future period.
 
Don't waste your time always searching for those wasted years
|