Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted, one moment. Would you capture it, or just let it slip? His palms is sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy. Theres vomit on his sweater already, moms spaghetti. Hes nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready. To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgettin. What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud. He opens his mouth, but the words wont come out.

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