The Optimist

Look at us all, we're fucking maggots. Here, did you want this needle, this bottle, these pills? The ugliest bond the best my dears. And now the bodies are still.

Addicts breathe bedtime stories for our lovely weak. The entire world looks down and smiles. Oh my, the poor boy, he can hardly speak.

They crawl in shallow graves beneath our wondrous, rotting city. Well my dears, how didn't you know? It's what we fear that makes us pretty.