Tripod

Sure, Tripod have made mistakes. They got regrets. Like that time they tried to steal a police station. But you earn your scars. Wisdom. She’s is a nagging bitch, and she moves in without asking.

Years, they pass like night buses in the rain. Comes a time when you need to face the awful ding of the truth bell. Ding! You got old, troubadour. A minute ago you were the scorching charismageddon of the new generation. Now you’re a luck-addled boozehound on the lam from a tax bill and a pregnant Nigerian princess.