Two boys fighting in the courtyard, bloody fists and split lips.
One has a heart as pure as the money in his pockets and a mind as sharp as the knife he guards it with,
He's got a voice that hints at power and bodies that asserts it.
The other with the world in his hands and glory at his feet,
He's got Ichor in his veins and words as cruel as curses.
They have class first thing but they'll go all night, they don't care who's right as long as somebody pays.

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