"They wade through pestilence
We call them wasted youth
The kids are running restless
Not a single fucking thing to lose
Give them enough rope
They'll fucking hang themselves for lack of things to do" NicAbne, God of the YEAST, Brooklyn life, Beers, D-beats and Blast beats, 22, Kind soul, Sour heart. Good friends, Eat your fucking heart out. "Fuck it dog life's a risk."