Who are any of us? No one, that's who. You're nobody. You've got nothing. If I die, or if you die, or if I kill you or if you kill me, who cares? Unless you kill someone famous. Then everybody knows your name. Airbody.

Being nobody almost gives you like a free pass to kill somebody, or I should say a somebody. You kill a somebody? Then everybody knows you were sincere. You meant business.

This is how I see it, I'm sorry. People say you're crazy Lucy, you're talking mad shit. They say don't do it, you're young, you have your whole life ahead of you. They're the ones talking shit. A whole life of this? You must be high. Home is Earth, man, and this ain't home. I don't belong here and I don't want to be here. I keep thinking about this poem. One of the bangers taught it to me.

"Yo he visto cosas que vosotros no creeríais: atacar naves en llamas más allá de Orión. He visto Rayos-C brillar en la oscuridad cerca de la Puerta de Tannhäuser. Todos esos momentos se perderán en el tiempo como lágrimas en la lluvia. Es hora de morir."