Tekster: Priestess. Murphy's Law.

One life nearing death finds a way to remain. Kept on a digital viewing screen, life sustained. State you prime directives, eat your baby food. Scum-filled city streets afaraid. Blow those crooked fucks away. Trapped inside this empty cage everything still feels the same inside. Slate clean, memory finds a way to reveal. He proves it's not his mind, but his soul that makes him real. Here's your prime directive: Justice is revenge. Guard down, pump him full of lead, that's some fancy shooting kid. Hold it, didn't catch your name. Though he'll never be the same, he'll try. He'll never run away.