Walking through injury distance collapses over vague selection.    They are cutting our scene.    No reason or rhyme for what they do.    Scoffing at ammunition.    The evening goes on like a script.    Out and out.    Access behind and outshined. I   njury breaks through walls as the curtin falls.    A-Z arrangements of the exits we have made.    The closing lines are listless in décor.    The evening goes on like a script.