Dead End - 2010/08/05

The gavel slams. The decision has been made.
Now is the time to flee or to stay and face,
The burden of the fate that has been laid out.

Sentencing. Orders. Custody. Transfer. Search.
If we can strip it all away here then so be it,
For without emptiness you will not survive.

Grab Your Shit. Get Out. Flee. No Extradition.
You've already lost what you cannot get back,
For we will be nipping at your shadow's heels.

Crawl Home. Clean It. Load It. Point. Fire.
Things got rough so lets just make them worse,
Who the hell knows where you will end up next?

One way or another the chains will be applied.

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