To the motel room, off of the cold streets. Skin pressed tight between the soiled sheets. Hot rank breath and the slapping of clammy meat. This drunk fuck the worst mistake you'll ever make. What you can't see will be the death of you. Open sores on careless lovers. Subject of prophylactic blunder. Swapping spit and coughing fits. Punishment for all your sins. Wake up and stumble to the bathroom, there's a message for you in red lipstick on the mirror. "Pray that death comes".