What sick ridiculous puppets we are, And what gross little stage we dance on. What fun we have dancing and fucking Not a care in the world. Not knowing that we are nothing. We are not what was intended.
What the fuck sort of question is that? You know, we’re all going to be really glad when we get rid of you, Somerset. It’s always these questions with you. “Did the kid see it?” Who gives a fuck? He’s dead, his wife killed him. Anything else has nothing to do with us.
Only in a world this shitty could you even try to say these were innocent people and keep a straight face. But that’s the point. We see a deadly sin on every street corner, in every home, and we tolerate it. We tolerate it because it’s common, it’s trivial. We tolerate it morning, noon, and night. Well, not anymore.