I like to sit in one of the crackhouse rooms with gloves, health, helm and just drop nades everywhere
I like to sit in one of the crackhouse rooms with gloves, health, helm and just drop nades everywhere
Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldiers knew
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred. ~Alfred, Lord Tennyson