And would I be the very one to soar with you into your future. But like Icarus, my wings are but of wax, brittle and weak. I feel the eyes of a partridge burning holes in my back, just waiting, waiting, waiting.

Waiting for me to give in to the inevitable.

Would you not be the wind that sends me to the arms of Delirium? In her deluge of colour, insanity and pure pure delight. Show me the paths that lie outside Destiny's garden because I don't really know my way around in these parts. Not anymore.

Paintball leaves bruises, Garangness exalts honour! Glory be to the man who leopard crawleth to get his moneybag. And to the bastard who shot me in the ass, may woe be to you !

Running in the cold! Makes you feel like you were meant to fly.