The alcohol on your breath burned like acid
through my lips. It left a scar, a souvenir of a
night I would rather forget. Hear that sound?
Those are the footsteps of the skeletons that just
broke down your closet door. I think they'd like a
word with you, and they don't look too happy.

Truth is the best weapon at your
disposal, but it's the only one that you never
use. Contrary to what you'd normally expect, I'm
not here to save you from some unseen force that
only turns out to be yourself in the end. No. My
only intentions are to make all this easier for
me. I speak with self-righteous tones, paranoid.