i wanna tell you a story. ain't got no characters in it but me. i wanna sing you a sad song. most of it i don't expect you to believe. it starts off just the whiskey and wine, miles of travel and some real good times. but it ends in a dark corridor, and there ain't no windows and there ain't no doors.
[He's about to say some smartass remark along the lines of "but then it won't stand out from all the other shiny stuff in the tent" when she brings up the potential manner of her death.
Brady's quiet for a minute, just until he can set aside his immense discomfort. After all....a 50/50 chance made for better odds than they were used to, but it was no guarantee. He was certainly cynical enough to understand that wishing and hoping rarely played a hand in one's luck.]
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Brady's quiet for a minute, just until he can set aside his immense discomfort. After all....a 50/50 chance made for better odds than they were used to, but it was no guarantee. He was certainly cynical enough to understand that wishing and hoping rarely played a hand in one's luck.]
....dunno, is that how you'd wanna go out?