Coward
Bodies slumped on the picket fence, in the gutter on display, burnt inside the furnace.  This is not a 
drill, this is the real thing.  Iron girders falling.  Nothings going to make me happy.  Another cog in the 
corporate machine perturbing everything.  A voicebox spews a horse-laugh.  Put him in the gallows.  
Machetes to fusillade.  Tin gods on toasting forks.  Nothings going to make me happy.