Random
Source Code
Random
When any Tim leaves the room and says he'll be a minute, that minute can be a minute or 6 hours, it's random odds
Are you actually going to take a minute or is this a Tim minute
A white car (preferably an SUV) that has a shoddy paint job, unreliable indicator lights, a main operating unit that usually doesn’t let it go much over the speed limit (it takes 8 minutes to go what most people would go in 5) and has letters missing from its make and model labels.
I’ll be there, but it might take a while since I’m going in 8 Minutes; I’ll get there in 8 Minutes
When your dealer says this he’s just gonna take the piss
Brad: yo how far out are u
Kyle: I’ll be 20-25 minute
Brad: You literally said that an hour ago u chat utter shit I’m getting a fat top up now u bastard
2 minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
2 minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
Kill for gain or shoot to maim
But we don't need a reason
The golden goose is on the loose
And never out of season
Blackened pride still burns inside
This shell of bloody treason
Here's my gun for a barrel of fun
For the love of living death
The killer's breed or the demon's seed
The glamour, the fortune, the pain
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain
Don't you pray for my soul anymore
2 minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
2 minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
The blind men shout, "Let the creatures out!
We'll show the unbelievers"
Napalm screams of human flames
For a prime-time Belsen feast, yeah
As the reasons for the carnage cut
Their meat and lick the gravy
We oil the jaws of the war machine
And feed it with our babies
The killer's breed or the demon's seed
The glamour, the fortune, the pain
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain
Don't you pray for my soul anymore
2 minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
2 minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
The body bags and little rags
Of children torn in two
And the jellied brains of those who remain
To put the finger right on you
As the mad men play on words
And make us all dance to their song
To the tune of starving millions
To make a better kind of gun
The killer's breed or the demon's seed
The glamour, the fortune, the pain
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain
Don't you pray for my soul anymore
2 minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
2 minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
Midnight
Midnight
Midnight
It's all night
Midnight
Midnight
Midnight
It's all night
Midnight, all night
A longer time than was promised, and in some cases never showing up.
*Friend 2 shows up an hour late*
Friend 1: God damn, took you a dealers minute to get here.
Friend 2: My bad, I didn’t mean to lag so hard.
A very long time. Not just a few days or weeks but months or years.
"So dude how long has it been since you ate at Applebees?"
"Man it's been an Alaskan minute!!"