I am part of the damned, the anti Guy fawks. That guy that made sure everyone thought he was alright. Till that last moment. Till the effects of those hidden barrells gave hurt in. I saw you personally, ridding yourself of your own image through commands. As, you lived on top of a stone. Your a Myth, commanding my skin with a push to fall asleep to your sins.
Live Sgt. Helmet that your helmet is broken and receiving your monkeybars made by your own hell. You told me once you ruled over snakes. But, then I saw all my friends that snaked and felt the wait.
I am not alone against this Myth. What is the difference you might ask? A humble or directed heart, doesn’t need. A barrell to ignite… Sgt. Helmet.
You are one…Everything else is free…