Chapter Text
The end of the world has been shit so far, the sun burning everything up, people going nuts and pointing a gun at anyone's head and killing them in cold blood, my poor bandmates dropping like flies and worst of it all, now my fucking guitar's busted.
When I was a kid, I thought all the bad shit was already over. Nowhere to go but up.
The recession, the war...Seemed like now we could actually live.
Fuck, how wrong I was...
Now here i am in a house full of strangers with almost nothing (save for a couple of water bottles and an amp) hands between my knees, wishing that the homeowner, who i found out that his name is Fyodor, had anything stronger than beer....
man...
how i wish to get wasted right now...