Landlord
Duct tape the shades to this house that's in decay and lock in our position – a bad tactical decision – a vivid premonition that we might stay here all our lives with plastic forks and rusted knives, rotten floorboards and cut electricity lines. As a matter of fact this place is hell. And see the landlord he won't give us a minute to stall on – a second to hide. I'm paying rent every time I breathe. The gas is leaking since 1996 you motherfucker. All the lattice work around you has surrounded you with virtue and lets you prey off people like me. If these walls could speak, the stories they could tell. The things they've seen. And see the landlord he won't give us a minute to stall on – a second to hide