In the midst of a nuclear war. People preying to their God in the streets. People screaming their views in the canteen at a downtown secondary school. An age old tale of when the number fall out the mouth of the warner, the warned were warned. Some will kill a man or two, kill their lives and everything they dreamed of, sit at a table of broken and proof of utter perfection. More modern times say you'll You'll ride the 56 to your end and Bombs will fall and a number will be called, the devil could answer and you were warned. An association like a vine and a place where time talks to time and tick top just never stops, like it never did.
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