headchecks

It's such a useless thing: A letterman without a jacket. I'm such a useless thing: A lonely fag without companion.

It doesn't really mean anything, that purple, black, and gold. A one and nine stuck on the sleeve, that champion patch on my heart, it's not worth any money.

I can get my name embroidered, but they still won't use it. I can get the inside quilted, but it'll still be cold.

That entire team doesn't care if I live or die. And some of them probably prefer the latter.