time for the final bout. rows of deserted houses:
all our stable mates are highway bound.
give us our measly sum:
getting the air inside my lungs is heavenly.
we′re starting out with nothing but crippling doubt.
we′ll rest easy (justified).
i′ve suffered a swift defeat, i′ll endure countless repeats.
the gift of memory is an awful curse.
with age it just gets much worse, but i won′t mind.