What you did before?
Can't do it anymore.
Shoulda done it when ya could've, say all the dark mothers,
whispering from the walls.
Fat as a battle ship, slow as one, too.
Unh unh unh.
All that time, the Zeros were flying,
there you were,
lazy as an umbrella in last night's drink.
Now you're a mess, damn.
On fire and sinking,
feel like shit all the time, and might lose that breast.
Steam for the mouth of the harbor,
and tell that stupid band to shut up.
Who the fuck are those guys in the planes, where'd they come from?
So many questions, you're so inquisitive! Let me try to answer.
No, this isn't a drill.
Yes, those are real bullets.
No, you never did anything to them; they don't even know you.
Yes, they're trying to kill you.
What's that last question you asked, dear?
On purpose? Bless your heart. They came out of the Sunday sky, that's all.