Hand over mouth. Whites of the eyes. These scars will heal just in time for summer. For killing season. When your old man gets home to criminal disarray you tell him icarus was here today. Whatever gets you through the night. I never said that this was right. For everything you never said, for everything you never did. No roses on an unmade bed. I never said that any of this was safe and clean. When your old man gets home tell him sisyphus was right. The myth is real. You get to the top. The rock falls down the other side. Again and again. And its all for naught. These scars will heal but we never will... So what separates us from animals again? Whites of the eyes. Its in the whites of the eyes. Hand over mouth. Whites of the eyes. These scars will heal and your just in time. Just in time. Just in time for killing season.