:38:04
It wasn't my baby.
:38:05
She wasn't my baby.
:38:07
Baby Dawn - she wasn't mine.
:38:10
Spud's, Swanney's,
:38:12
Sick Boy's...
:38:13
I dunno.
:38:14
Maybe Allison knew. Maybe not.
:38:17
I wished I could think
of something to say -
:38:20
something sympathetic,
:38:22
something human.
:38:23
Say something, Mark.
:38:27
Fucking say something!
:38:36
I'm cooking up.
:38:54
Cook us up a shot, Rents.
:38:57
I really need a hit.
:39:00
And so she did -
:39:02
I could understand that.
:39:03
To take the pain away.
:39:07
So I cooked up
:39:08
and she got a hit.
:39:10
But only after me -
:39:12
that went without saying.
:39:13
Well, we knew
who the father was now.
:39:16
It wasn't just the baby
that died that day.
:39:20
Something inside Sick Boy
was lost and never returned.
:39:24
He had no theory to explain
this moment. Nor did I.
:39:28
Our only response was to keep
going and fuck everything.
:39:32
Pile misery on misery.
Heat it on a spoon
:39:36
and dissolve it.
:39:37
Then squirt it into a vein
:39:40
and do it all over again.
:39:42
Keep on going out, robbing,
fucking people over.
:39:46
Propelling ourselves
with longing
:39:47
towards the day
it would all go wrong.
:39:50
Because no matter how much
you stash or steal,
:39:54
you never have enough.
:39:55
No matter how often
you go out and rob,
:39:59
you always need
to do it all over again.