The sand falls from the top to the bottom of the hour glass that is your lifeline, bringing your death closer and closer to reality. What if I broke the hourglass, crumbling your worthless little lives? Then you would be seen for what you are, the dusty sand of the hourglass. Nothing more. Nothing less. Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes. Your worthless life is is my hand. My grip is strong. I break the glass as the sand falls through my bloody fingers to the ground. You are all dead to me. You worthless degenerates.