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the bass and the tweeters make the speakers go to war
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
"Promise," he spat through dazed lips, and looked at her hand, wide eyed through ugly tears that made it longer, blurrier.

He didn't take it, but he let the gun fall further to his side, stared at the ground.

"Okay," he said, his voice quiet and watery.
A list of the dying, a list of the damned.

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I've Got No Strings · Crematorium Gardens