a boy pace's in his room, his chest is burning, his hands are sweaty,
his breathing is faster than the blood pumping from his heart,
and his mind is in shambles. he must already be feeling the
effect's of the condemned.
he repeats a phrase over and over again as if casting a spell
apon himself, "that might save my skin but it wont save my soul"
"that might save my skin but, it wont save my soul"