Sometimes this town feels like a purgatory, only you have no idea what you did that you were punished for. It chews you up, grinds you down, spits you out. So here I was, woken up by the familiar sound of sirens. Plenty of worse ways and places to wake up. Stripped down to your tighty-whities in an alley, staring into the barrels of a shotgun in a dark warehouse. Hanging upside down from a bridge. Been there, done that.
I'd rather wake up in one of those situation than like this.
Same time, same date, fourteenth time and counting.
BJB a pokus o noir atmosferu.
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