And so it begins again.

Today my conscience speaks, in a gentle whisper echoing from a dusty grave.

Mercy would have it be enough, but Karma wields a heavy hammer, and the barrage I will face will by no means be small, and by no means would I not deserve it.

If she's a spacecraft I'm unqualified to pilot, and this flak I get is for getting off, what will be in store for me should I continue piloting and crash into the Atlantic.