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.