So, I won't get into a situation like that ever.
I don't look like Dirk Nowitzki. I have a GI jaw line, dark hair, thick stubborn beard hear, wide shoulders, quite some swag walking. I can't hide the Skateboarding, the company I choose, I have a dialect in German and move in English through Cogney, Boston and a tiny pitch of Irish to wear my Baseball Cap deep into the face like a Black New Orleans GI.
I look like the fucking Devil to the German Patriots. Not like the banker Jew or soft Lefty. I look like trouble, like a fight waiting to happen.
My jaw line will be stretched biting my teeth together and when their Fratboys start drunk singing a Nazi song using the British hymn melodie, I start the sailor song "What she'll we do with the drunken sailor" laud like a Shops Crew having my college buddy pull me off the place after HEY HO UP HIM RISING! HEY HANG EM HIGHER.
I state them down. Stay away from them and so do they.
Until their day X
And that day after my day Y. Finally, the training coming into use. Terror. Bloodshed. Extermination. Getting my last scares heeling that last wound. Fighting Germans like my Grandfathers against their lies to death.
Deadhead against Totenkopfe. Sober against Drugged. Brutal against Brutal.
Just talking with them, I don't have to. Life is Good sometimes.
#noblessoblige #TIE #provos #terrorustgangs #centurion #deadhead
PS: And if that day never comes, we still have to 0 in on your all habit to pay more for Cocaine than Coffee beans. In the War on Attitude ending your shit show, Authority. Day 0, from here or you get an Attitude, yesterday.
