You have no options. Sometimes, there are no options. Your friend can deny it, but is true. Do it and shut up. Yeah, of course, there are options. Everyone can run away like a chickenshit, but then you must face the consequences.
Be a rat is not that bad, c’mon. All you have to do is talk with your old fellas, just bullshit them, and open your mouth here. Sing to us, if you prefer. You can write your poetry with subliminar message, we’ll understand the subtle. At least we will comprehend you. All you artists claim for that, isn’t it true? Finally somebody will dedicate some attention to your writings. That’s good, uh? Maybe I’ll write an academic thesis about it.
You chose this life, pal. From now on you’ll be a real “damned poet”, I don’t know the exact term, but I think that you can get the idea. Wait a couple decades and you can tell everything to your biographers. The day you fucked up a pair of fucking dealers in payback. Because they fucked you, you know that, uh? Now you can get even.
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