Don't be ridiculous.

It isn't me.

No, no, that is you and I know because I drive you home and I look at you through the binoculars and everything else that I shouldn't do.

It was once, it's not anymore.

After the rallies after my parents and my sister were killed.

Then the rifles came out was the only way to get anyone to listen.

Just to listen.

I killed a boy who had nothing to live for beyond the lunch money he would get for killing me.

I shot him in the head to stop him from shooting me.

Mhm.

When I ended the rifle to my brother and I told you I'm through, I walked away with him shouting at me.

You're a coward.

My parents are dead.

So one he's alive.

My brother who were in another life wouldn't wouldn't harm.

That was the last thing you ever said to me.

The only contact I have with him is the notebooks that I send and imagine him receiving.

I know he's alive.

I know it, but I'm not to him.

I like to you because I was afraid I was afraid he might be involved in.

What I heard.

I like to everyone else because if I didn't, they wouldn't let me anywhere near the and that's the only place that I believe has a chance to change any of this.

And I lied to you about a gene Solo because I loved him once until the color of my skin became a problem.

The politics of my skin.

I walked away from africa with nothing.

No brother, No family, no love or nothing.

Nothing.

Just a belief that works and compassion.

How the better way.

Even if it's slower than a gun, Yeah.

Where are you going?

You've got blood all over your face.

Can't say stuff like that with blood on your face.

Yeah.

Yeah, mm hmm.