A Rant: Champan.

Thirty years. I haven't even been in existence that long. Yet... I grieve. I hate you, Chapman. I damn you to hell. You took away something from the world, someone important. Someone who meant something. Someone who if was still alive they would mean more now in these times of sorrow than anything. But the bullet cracked his skull. And down went a poet, and down went a lover, and down went a hero. And down went a dreamer. You killed someone that I can't even explain these feelings I have for. Ruined. You're a sick bastard, Chapman. And to think the Government probably hired you... Fuck you. I hate you.