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Let them have it; it's theirs

 Beauty goes out of the world and it's only the beating of flesh that fills the air. It's only the moaning of some whore made good by the bank balance of a richer man. Let them bang on at it. Let the flesh smells rot the air. As for this withering part of the tree, As for me:  I will enjoy the last rays of the sun.  People are such a disappointment.
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Run into the night

 All is golden like a flashing rollercoaster when we hit the ground. Peace only to be found in the soil.  Scuttling like a mangy dog I turn around to each of my friends, fate biting me and no rest until the bitter end. 

Beer. Give me beer for I am wounded and bitter in spirit. 

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