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About Liverpool

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets—motherfucker, it’s late, cold as hell. Neon lights flickerin’, girls standin’ on corners like ghosts. Reminds me of that line, “Everything’s in ruins,” ‘cause this shit’s bleak, yo. You gotta know the code—eye contact, quick nod, no fuckin’ around. I once saw this chick, right? Tiny, tough as nails, but her eyes? Dead. Like she’d hauled that cart herself for years. Made me fuckin’ mad—world’s a bastard for lettin’ that happen.

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But then, just as I’m getting into it, my phone buzzes. It’s my boss. He’s like, “Where are you? We need you at the distillery!” I’m thinking, “Seriously? Can’t a Nose catch a break?” So, I dash over to the distillery on the outskirts of town.

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