When you're down, you're down.
As if the economy isn't bad enough, just when you see what be a the light at the end of some dark mold-stained tunnel that you put yourself in a long time ago, some punk steps out of the dark and bashes you in the face with a two-by-four.
Feeling dazed from the fog-induced blindness that crippled your bitch ass before isn't enough to make you crawl, fucker's got to break your kneecaps too. And then he smiles some crazy crooked-ass grin, showing those rotten stink breath teeth, telling you to have a nice day.
Why don't you have a nice day you fuck. Have yourself a debt induced, emotionally draining, covered in the stench of life day. And I hope you fucking enjoy it.
When I see you, I won't step out of the shadows, creeping like some golem afraid of his reflection. I will step out proud, proud of overcoming the struggle, and I will put your ass down. You won't ever get back up.
This I swear.
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