I have a bad case of the Mondays.
Tomato soup? Or a BLT? Or both? Both.
Drink! Feck! Arse! Girls!
I boughtabottle of fanta, took like two sips and then left it at the train station. firswurlprblms ={
Rising up, back on the street. Did my time, took my chances. Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet. Just a man and his will to survive.
And how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods?
Listen, I may have done a few drinks of booze.
I got 99 problems, and all of them are Luftballons.
Once again, the Salarian Union requests that you not touch that.
I've got the touch. I've got the power.
Epson Inkjet printers MUST DIE!
I never use my tongue on people! It's just for stamps and emergencies!
Greetings from Scott Cee, ruler and king of the Loungeons... Our words are backed with NUCLEAR WEAPONS!
Caps lock: off. Num lock: off. Missile lock: on.
Malkovich. Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich.
Who run Bartertown?

He was just a rookie trooper, and he surely shook with fright.
His armour was like paper, and his rifle it was shite.
He had to sit and listen to those awful mutons roar.
"You ain’t gonna live no more!"

Gory, gory, it’s the rookie’s turn to die!
Gory, gory, it’s the rookie’s turn to die!
Gory, gory, it’s the rookie’s turn to die!
He ain’t gonna live no more!

He looked around the dropship, and the smile fell from his face.
His team-mates all had laser guns and great big carapace.
All he had was a rifle and a flimsy kevlar vest.
He ain’t gonna live no more!


The landing ramp fell to the ground, they charged into the fray.
Our hero did whatever he could to simply run away.
His flanking shots were wildly aimed, his bullets went astray,
He ain’t gonna live no more!


Many died with fearsome wounds, the mission was a fail,
The rookie heard the last team member die with awful wails.
And something snapped inside his soul, he rushed back to the fight,
But he ain’t gonna live no more!


Bradford bellowed orders, Doctor Shen he shed a tear.
Doctor Vahlen’s ravings had them cowering in fear.
For grenades had ruined all the precious ET gear,
So he ain’t gonna live no more!


When they took him to the med bay, so many tears were shed.
Our hero lay with plasma burns upon his manly head,
Around him were the bodies of a hundred sectoid dead,
And he ain’t gonna live no more!


There was blood upon the Skyranger, and ichor on his boots,
Intestines were a-dangling from his body-armour suit,
He was a mess, they scooped him up, and threw him a salute,
But he ain’t…gonna live…no…MORE.

(Chorus, long and loud.)

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Chryssalids! They're coming out of the goddamn walls!


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