chop chop chop
i stand from the midst of the fields, chopping at the flesh of the lambs
they are fresh. soft. tender.
remember, downsman? the fire? it was so beautiful. it would've warmed you. just like the heart of the Master. but you rejected him. a wrong move.
i see you as i type. you are walking towards me. you yell a lot.
sweet dreams, downsman.
the master waits.