PreSeason is over. The Season has begun.
Maybe Ill put a bullet in my head.
Maybe I'm just better off dead.
Maybe we'll see the shadow of a brighter greener day
only to wallow in the muck of this sad, grotesque play.
Annoyed by the following of a brutal couplet rhyme,
just a few more words to scribble if I can find the time
before the bullet makes it's mark.
And all I see falls dark.
And all you know is beyond redemption.
Screw it. Bite me. Goodbye.