circular_saw raze it's a beautiful day, and all you can think to do with it is cut firewood you'll never use. when winter comes, you'll sit and stare at an app that simulates a wood burning stove, leaving all the kindling you've carved from stolen homes to be eaten by opportunistic termites. the only smoke that's stung your lungs is the slow collapse that comes from sucking on a cigarette. you don't know what stillness is. you would die without your precious noise. but when the blade bites into your neck, you won't make a sound. 221021 what's it to you? who go blather from