I feel ties of comradeship weigh down upon my chest. Buried under the crushing weight of my wounded horse, I lie in a battlefield, facing skywards. The sky is blue. I cough up blood… listen to the din and dirge of a maddening skirmish… listen closely and you’ll hear the pacifist’s sob… listen closely, but adhere to none… every voice is feverishly infatuated with either blood-lust or self-preservation at any cost. Ties of comradeship weigh down upon my chest, for they have lost warmth and flight… Cold blade of skewed reason pretending to be some higher order sensibility is thrust into my chest. terrifying… cold… painful… but then laughter emerges from within the deepest reaches of my being… not mirthless like the hungry blade… laughter breaks out… so absurd! So absurd! So absurd!
Story Of The Footloose 