I knock on the door and am let out, the exit sealed behind me. With another sigh, I walk back to my throne and sit down. A follower comes up and reports to me about the results of the waterboarding. Nodding, I dismiss him and get thinking.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
I try to sleep but can't, restless as ever. Groaning, I slip my shoes back on and wander the warehouse until reaching her door again. I put my jacket on again and order them to open up, standing in the doorway, "You run and I'll cap your a*s. Follow me."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
I lead her out the door, flanked by one of my own before I signal him off. Walking down the dim streets, I scan for trouble and hope to God I find some, slipping her knife out, "If I give you your knife back and you turn on me, you'll never see that sister of yours again. I don't deal in kids, as I said, but I could start."
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices; to be found only in the minds of men. For the record, prejudices can kill, and suspicions can destroy. A thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all of its own. — Rod Serling, Twilight Zone