You know I’ll be the one who gets fallin’ down drunk
At my neighbor kids soccer game
I got an ‘82 Fiero with a carseat in the middle
Broken down on the interstate
I got a beer stained T-shirt
Lookin’ like Joe Dirt
Somethin’ ‘bout me just ain’t right
I’m a cash-stealin’
Drug dealin’ loser without any feeling
Gettin’ trailer trashed tonight
‘Cause I’m a low life and I’m lovin it
I got the whole world in the palm of my hand
And i’m a low life so fuckin’ deal with it
No you can’t change something you don’t understand.
Desmond spent the full day attempting to rationalize his stay in Istanbul was all but a bleeding effect. Keeping himself under wraps with this city being prominently owned by the assassin’s left him discouraged. He knew there wouldn’t be such a feat. Not with the way Ezio trained the assassins here. Not when he knew Yusuf ran the dens around here.
“What a day…” He began chewing the inside of his cheeks, contemplating what he was to do if this wasn’t a bleeding effect. Nothing about the day reminded him of a bleeding effect- no talking to assassin’s, no searching for those god forsaken keys or books Ezio searched for, nor any Sophia. Rubbing betwixt his brows, he settled on a bench. Wondering just what he was to manage with keeping stealth in the Galata district, he settled against the stone wall. “What’s she playing at making me actually be here?”