Author's Notes: Just Dallas, A Parody of Your Reality. Updated to change some verses.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
Every Day, I imagine a heist where I can be with you
In my hand, is a medic bag that'll heal me and you
The blood flows down into a dark puddle
Just move your bags, carry them into the van
But in this world of infinite heisters
What will it take, just to find, that special Day?
What will it take, just to find, that special Day?
Has Bain found, everybody a fun heist to do today?
When your here, even pubs are fun for us anyway
When I can't even read my own health bar
What good are faks when a med bag heals it all
And if this heist won't write me a paycheck
What will it take just for me to have it all?
Does my hand only type bitter words for those who are downed near me?
It is love when I take hostages or love when I set you free?
The blood flows down into a dark puddle
How can I get you out of custody?
If I can't hear the sound of your Inspire
What do you call medic bags in your lobby?
And in your lobby, if I don't know how to save you
I'll leave your game