This is not the way I die. I’ve seen it in the cards; in the stars; in the lines on my palm, with the gun at my head and the noose ‘round my neck — I can’t be scared, this is not my death. I’ve been here before, I live through it each time. With your hands on my throat, with the arrow in my eye. With the knife in my gut, with the pills down my throat. I’m not worried at all, this is not how I go.
So lower your blade, chop me up limb from limb, watch me bleed