Let's begin. Hands on the table. Tonight we have two new pilgrims joining us, so let's welcome them.
Starting with you, who is it that you were seeking to reach? My husband. He was taken six months ago by the influenza. I tried to reach him through Mrs Breach at Spark Hill, but she kept getting his middle name wrong.
Don't talk about Mrs Breach in this house. She's an unsanctified charlatan. And you? Who do you seek?
Well... Truth... Sorry.
Truth is, I'm not even sure she's dead. So I came here to find out. Er...
See, my son and my daughter... ...were taken from me when they were very small. Taken by the parish authorities and I never knew what happened to them. But lately, I've had a feeling. Like a feeling.
Can't put it into words. And I'll keep having a dream. I'll see you.
Pretty girl, about 18 years old. She's standing across the street and she tells me she's passed over. Now my daughter would have been 18 this year on May 15th.
This girl has dark eyes. Like mine. And she shouts. And she shouts.
And she tells me. She wants to talk to me. Because I'm her mother.
Now I don't even know what name they gave her after they stole her from me. But if she does want to say goodbye, I thought this would be the place. You're wearing the black Madonna. You're Gypsy.
For the part of me that dreams is Gypsy. I'm a little girl. Who is not a little girl.
My maiden name is Shelby. So... Perhaps you could do me first? No!
No! No. No. Butcher Blanched What the fuck is that racket? This is what they call music these days, brother.
Music? Hey! Hey!
Put it away. Fuck off! Fucking look at this, my son. It's all right, isn't it?
Irish whiskey. Bottle. I love you.
I love you. I'll recognise a few of these lads. Sabini's cousin over there It's right after It's Sabini's club Jesus Christ Everybody in here's a fucking face Just the lieutenant's son And I'm signing the offices Let's line them up Holiday Gentlemen There's been a mistake I'm afraid you're gonna have to leave We just bought a fucking What?
bottle. Some of the men here recognise you from the racetracks in the north. Yeah!
Get down the locks! They say you have no business coming south of the line without prior agreement. My line without beer, my friend. They say this is provocation. Right, well, you tell them.
We're on holiday. Your place in the rules. They say you ought to break even. blindness.
Biggie, jump! All right! Hold the fox next! Come on! Yeah!
Come here! Put your mice on him! Get out.
Here? Here. I'm gonna use that.
Didn't think so. We came here... not to make enemies. Now...
I came here to make new friends. Those of you who are last will soon be first. And those of you who are downtrodden will rise up. Yep.
You know where to find us? I think I've lost the joke. I'll have none left at this rate.
Some fucking holidays. Yeah? You're asking how you're fucking menacing now, Arthur? Yeah. This'll fix you.
Give me that. You, John Boy, eh? How are you?
So that's your fucking wife. I'll give over. No more talk of chickens, you hear me?
Fuck the chickens. I've 50 quid in me pockets. Let's paint the town, eh?
Woof, Ava, are you coming for a drink? No, the woman upstairs is looking after Carl. She goes mad if I'm late.
You're the leader, Shelby. Your brother broke the rules. I don't have a fucking brother! Me and my friends here need a bit of female company.
Let's go for a drive. Hold the step! Get off!
Fucking hold him! You're me, Shelby. I missed you at my club. I always had the races.
So maybe... Don't say my name. Jesus. Franco. Take my name out of his mouth.
While you're in there, do a bit of digging for gold. Pay for the bedroom. See how much I know about you.
I even know what's in your fucking mouth! Look at me. Look at me!
Look at me! You take up with the Jews. Yeah, you think that's what London's all about. You can just come down, pick a side. You fucking clown!
Now your life is over. My face is the last thing you'll ever see on Earth. Your mistake.
You remember that when you get to hell. Finish him off. Well, we should see if the bastard's still alive.
Calm down. Put him down, Ollie. Put him down, mate.
He's only little. You and your hoe. Seems so.
Well, you're a brave lad, ain't you? You want to take a look at my bakery? We bake all sorts here, mate, yeah.
Did you know we bake over 10,000 loaves a week? Can you believe it? We bake the white bread, we bake the brown bread. Bake all sorts. Would you like to try some?
Bread? Yeah? All right. What would you like, brown or white? Try the brown.
Brown, what? Not bad. Not bad, eh?
Not bad. It's fucking awful, that stuff. Fucking brown stuff, it's horrible. It's for the workers, yeah.
White stuff, now that is for the bosses. Come look. Well, I've heard very bad, bad, bad things about you Birmingham people.
Hey. You're all gypsies, right? So would you live in a fucking tent or a caravan?
I came here to discuss business with you, Mr. Solomons. Well, mum is for fun and fucking, isn't she? Whiskey, all right, that is my business. Let's talk first, eh? Suit yourself.
They say you had your life saved by a policeman. I have policemen on my payroll. Well I don't like policemen because policemen, they can't be trusted. Mr. Sabini, he's this policeman all the time, that's why he's winning the war in London. And you are losing it.
It's over mate. You win the war. I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian.
I pushed his face up against the trench and shoved a six-inch nail up his fucking nose and I hammered it home with a duck board. It was fucking biblical, mate. So don't come in here and sit there in my chair and tell me that I'm losing my war to a fucking wop. That war was a long time ago. You need to be more realistic.
Realistic, yeah. Realistic. Well, if you weren't losing the war, then you wouldn't send me the telegram. Really?
You forget your fucking telegram. Your telegram just said hello. It's very simple.
You want to sell me something. What? We joined forces.
Fuck off! No! Categorical. Fuck you, ridiculous.
Mr. Solomons... Your distillery provides one tenth of your income. Protection is another ten percent of the risk you make from the racetracks.
I know you keep a gun in the drawer. I know you keep it beside the whiskey. I know you offer a day in our death.
I know what I'm saying makes you angry, but I'm offering you a solution. You see, Mr. Sabini is running all your bookies off your courses. And he's closing down the premises that take your room.
And people don't trust your protection anymore. You're the bloke who shot Billy Kimmel, right? You did, you fucking shot him.
That's you. You fucking betrayed him, mate. So it would be entirely appropriate to do what I'm thinking in my head to you right now. I can offer you a hundred good men, all with weapons, and a new relationship with the police.
Intelligence. Intelligence is a very valuable thing, isn't it, my friend? And usually it comes far too fucking late. They said I shot you already right?
In the fucking- ...face and a bullet-cold, bone-mush bone cabinet over there. Which is a shame, isn't it? Because that cabinet's fucked now and I've got to get shot of it. So, what I do is this. It's fucking simple, mate.
I cut that cabinet in half and I... I do, I literally, I just cut the cabinet. I cut...
I cut the cabinet literally in half, mate. And I take one half of the cabinet, right, and I put it into a barrel. And I take the other half of the cabinet in all its pieces and I put that into another barrel, right.
And I send this barrel off to Mandalay and the other barrel off to somewhere like, I don't know, Timbuktu. Have you ever been? No. No? Would you like to go?
No. You know, I always thought that you'd have a great big fucking gold ring in your nose. I'm sorry, Gordon. That is your plan.
Shoot the fucking lot of them. Mr. Sabini, the police are here. Tell them to wipe their feet. So why do I have to tell you everything? We can't search every train that comes into London.
They don't use trains, they use boats. The boatmen are old gypsies. He's a fucking gypsy. Why do we have to tell them everything?
Okay, we can't search every boat. Lucky for me, I have a boy in the Jews' rum house. Gypsy went to meet Solomons, and after, he drank whiskey and shook hands, and then Alfie gave him some soda, some such kike thing that means peace.
What exactly do you want us to do, Mr Sabini? Did you bring dog shit in here on your shoes? Check, have a look. I can smell something.
You've got photographs of this Tommy Shelby, though, right? We have military ID photographs from his time with the Warwickshire Yeomanry. Shelby won medals. Oh, dear. Listen, these fucking soldiers, how are they still alive?
Why do we have to listen to these Englishmen of shit? OK, so you've got his fucking photo. If he shows his face in Camden Town, your cop is lifting, alright? You know, sometimes when I smell something, it's something that's not real.
It's something more like a premonition. It's like sometimes I smell something, but it's not a smell, it's just... Something isn't right.
Mr. Sabini, we'll do everything we can to deal with this man. Deal? Did you say do a deal? I didn't mean that.
Fuck. Fuck. You mon- And I killed you being fucking Godhead. No, you're being ridiculous.
Somebody's fucking sat you down. Somebody's fucking sat you down and talked to you. Mr. Sabine.
We should go. This fucking gypsy has sat down with a fucking cop. Mr. Sabine. You fucking hit me and you're taking both fucking hands over me and over him.
Okay, so now you fucking follow Shelby. You fucking follow him and you finish him. Vai! Vai!
Excuse me I'm looking for someone called Elizabeth Grey. I was told she lived here at number 17. I came last night but there was nobody here. So I waited. What do you want with Elizabeth Grey?
I think she might be my mother. Thank you for watching. Take a little walk to the edge of town All right boys, let's go to work! Let's be happy! She knows right!
We're the blacks, we're the secrets like Keep it moving! Go! Next line!
Lime. Abbey Heath. Abbey Heath.
Profession? Baker. Good lad. Fill it out.
Fuck off. Next lad! Lime.
Bonnie Halls. Bonnie Halls. Right.
Profession? Baker. Good lad. Fill it out. Fuck off.
Next lad! Name? Billy Kitchen. Billy Kitchen. Occupation?
Head baker. Put it out. Let me show you my...
Never give power to the big man, would I tell you? Never give power to the big man. Next slide! Alright, boys.
You've now all been enrolled as bakers in the aerated bread company of Camden Town. Anyone asks, that's what you do. You're bakers.
The coppers in Camden Town are on our side, but north or south... You show them that piece of paper. Tell them you've come down from North to find work, to break strikes.
Tell them you're fascists, if you have to. We're finding lodgings for you, but for now you'll sleep here in the bakery. Don't touch any of the bread.
It'll most likely explode. Any questions? Yes. I haven't even seen any, Brit. He'll wake up, Granted he won't have any teeth left, But he will be a wiser man for it.
And the last thing he will remember is your funny little joke, Won't he? WHAT?! There are fucking rules here, yeah. There are fucking rules for a fucking reason. Quite simply, they have to be obeyed.
Alright? Rule number one. The distinction between bread and rum is not discussed. Rule number two.
Anything, right, that your superior officer says to you, or any of your other fucking superior officers say to you, yeah? NOT DISCUSSED! Rule number three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, okay?
For the rest of your fucking miserable, measly lives, yeah? Because I, like you... I'm also a complete fucking sodomite.
Jewish women. I near them because Jewish women for you are off the fucking menu. I think that's fair. Hmm.
Alright, sick guy. Oh. Forgive me why I interrupted you. Pick him up.
Get them out of here. Make this fucking work. Don't fucking wait! You better be fucking soldiers! You're a fucking disgrace!
Go! Alright lads, this is a respectable event. You will all behave accordingly.
No weapons, no drinking. John, we will stay together. When the oars comes up, I will do the bidding. I've already registered my interest with the auctioneer. So he knows to expect my bids.
Until I get to... Run a hand over her, Tommy. I'll have a vet's report, Curly. Keep an eye open where she walks.
I've got a feeling, Tommy, something is arising. It's all right, Curly. You're just in an unfamiliar place. We all are.
I can feel it. It's all right, Curly. It's all right. It's your job, Curly.
We're here at 1,450. Do we hear 500, 500, 1,600, 1,700, thank you, 1,900, 2,000, 2,100, 2,200, 2,300... Why do people come late to these things?
2,400, 2,500... People come late because they know what they want. It's only you who needs to see every horse. 2,600, am I big?
2,600, I am big. So, morals of market, said Mace, stood by Tetric and... of Lady Josephine. We'll start the bidding at 800 guineas.
All right, Tommy, this is her. Do we hear 800 guineas? 850?
850? Do we hear 9? Do I hear nine?
Nine on my bid. Bid for this one. They're great, why? It's beautiful. It's a filly.
Mickey needs some pace on the gallops, I promised him. One thousand. Do I hear one thousand and fifty?
One thousand one hundred. One thousand two hundred. Do I hear two fifty? Two fifty.
I'll go house with you from the spring fund, cuckoo. 1,300 1,400 Do I hear 5? 1,500 1,600 Do I hear 7?
1,700, thank you! That's it, Tom. You have to stop. You don't have any new belt. Yes, I do.
I'm having the arse. He's a sweet beast, Tom, but stop by and tell him I feel something bad. Tom Curley.
We're in 2000. 2008, 2050. 2050, you know. Enough. Billy can use one of my geldings.
And bid. Do we hear 2050? Last time. 2050. So, to Mr. Thomas Shelby.
To the premises of Mr. Charles Strong, Smulheath. What kind of premises? Oat yacht.
Yachts? Canals. I'm curious.
What is your business, Mr. Shelby? Import-export. I also sell pegs and tell fortunes.
You beat us to it. Did I? I was trying to have a filly for my stud.
Sorry? Thomas Shelby from where? From Birmingham.
Goodness. No, not much. Hey Carlton, I breed racehorses and train them.
What is it you do? I rarely answer questions, that's what I do. It's on me!
Come on, hurry up! We're gonna go! Well before you go, if you ever decided to put that filly out, I'd be interested in having her. Plan to raise her? You have a trainer?
I know people. I know people too. Tommy, we've got to get this kid back before dark or Polly will have your balls.
She will have them. We're no different people I would guess. My father knows Mick Hancock. Trained through Ascot winners.
Oh, so that was your father. Yes. We're joint owners as a stud.
Took the majority share when my husband was killed. Heap. Tommy! We gotta get back to the caravans! The chickens are hungry!
So will you consider me? I will consider you. You still don't tell me what you do.
Oh, I do bad things. But you already know that. Right, that bloody time.
It's the fucking truth, John-Boy. Rich women these days, all they want is working class cock. Tommy, maybe she was a something bad I had the feeling about. Ah, she looks alright to me, Curly. All them men are dead, see?
Officers all shot. Biles. All outside.
He's got contacts in the racing world. Here, Michael, you draw. Thomas Shelby.
Thomas! Shelby! Down!
Thomas Shelby! Get him off me! Arthur! Get him off me! Come on, stop it.
Get him off me. Arthur, that's it. Come on. Come on.
Come on. Come on. That's it. Come on.
Arthur! No! No!
No, no. Come on. Good. Still breathing.
Don't get blood on the kid. Michael, you didn't say a thing. This didn't happen.
All right, give me the keys. Michael, give me the keys. I'm all right to drive.
Alright, go on, go on, go on. Somebody! He's fucking Scarford! Right, let's get out of here, Scarfish! Come on, guys!
Mr. Shelby? You ready for it? Watch it. You go. Thank you.
All right, boys, let's go! Let's go! MARIO! MARIO!
MARIO! The Bainista is done! I'll protect you now.
Oh shut up! Stop fucking whinging! Use my razor blade! And a few complaints from the neighbours about the terrible fucking music! You wanna tell them or should I?
This place is under new management! By order of the Pinkie Blokes! Did you know they was gonna take the Eden Club?
I know about the Eden Club. Yes. Did you know they were gonna do it before they did it?
Because that's the one who's in charge, isn't it? The one who knows before it happens. I know what I know, you know. If you don't know, then you don't fucking know, do you? Did you know they was gonna take Wimbledon Dogs?
Haringey, the trotting tracks. Talk, alright? I genuinely want to hear you. You've lost control, Alfie.
Have I? Everybody knows. Talk to me, Alfie. Talk to you.
Alright, I'll talk to you, I'll fucking tell you how it was, right? What happened was this, you know? All the time you were talking about dirty fucking Jews. All the fucking time.
Dirty fucking Jews, dirty kites, dirty dustbin. You want to talk about not getting into places, you know? Everybody makes fucking jokes. I didn't know you had no sense of humor.
And I'm going to fucking mention, right? The great big fuck-off elephant in the room. Welcome, Alfie. How many more bookies would Epsom is lost by?
None. None. Not one.
So for a few fucking jokes and Epsom, you fucking invite a tribe of savages into the city and just fucking unlock their fucking gates! I'm sorry, what are you saying, mate? I'm saying... Yeah, I'm sorry about the, the Jew thing. You saying you're sorry?
Yeah. You're sorry about the Jew thing? Yeah.
Really? Yeah. Oh, no, him writing. Write that down. He said, I'm sorry.
And also write down that all our bookies can go back to Epson. He didn't say that. Who's asking you? Hey, write it down.
It's all right. Come on. Alfie's an old friend. My friend.
Now, admit it. The Peaky Blinders... ...is out of control.
Yeah, they're out of fucking control, mate. They come down the canal, they spread like the fucking clock. Right.
So now they're everybody's problem. Alfie, you and me, we've been fighting since we was in school. Yeah. Alright? Now also, we've been friends.
You know, it goes backwards and forwards. How much better is it when we're friends? Oh, it's much better, mate, yeah.
You like that, don't you? Well, what we're doing here is we're writing down some kind of a deal thing, right? Yeah, a written deal. A written deal.
Good. Why don't we discuss the border between the Italians and the Jews going back to Farringdon Road? Farringdon Road. Yeah, Farringdon Road.
Fuck. I sent you this. Write down Farringdon Road.
No, no, no. Write down Camden Road. Farringdon Road.
Camden Road. Write down Farringdon Road. Camden Road.
Farringdon Road. Camden Road. Write down Camden Road. Just write down peace.
Just write down peace. Between the Jews and the Italians. And war.
Against the gypsies. Tommy, it's me. Tommy, can you hear me? Yes, Grace. I think you called.
I... I haven't slept. Grace, this is not a good time.
I can call you back. No, no, no, it's fine. It's alright.
Can we meet? Yes, we'll meet. When?
Grace, there are some things I have to do first. Is this your house? Yes.
I have a suite. Do I not get a drink? Please. You want one?
Yes. Still whiskey? Yes. But other things have changed. Sell vans with your name on it at the docks.
Yes, some things have changed. Tommy, I really wasn't sure about coming tonight. I lit a fire in the bedroom upstairs. My plan was that we'd sit here for a while, talk about our old times, drink some whiskey. And I was going to tell you, I hadn't spent a day without thinking about you.
And then we were going to go upstairs and sleep together. Just now on the way to opening the door, I changed my mind. So just have one drink, tell me how happy you are in New York and then you can go.
You changed your mind? Hmm. So you can go. As a matter of fact, I am happy in New York.
And I am married. Oh yeah, he's rich, I know. And he's sweet.
And he's kind to me. So what makes you think that I would have gone to bed with you after one whiskey and some conversation? I was accounting for three whiskeys.
How dare you? Doesn't matter now, because I've changed my mind. I came here because you asked me. Even though he's sweet and he's kind to you? And now I feel like an idiot.
Well then go. Jesus. Well, you're still here. Are you so certain? That you're still in love with me.
I was, but I'm not anymore. You're not harmed, Grace, are you? No, I'm not harmed. I don't carry guns.
I don't have to. You don't have a sense of humour anymore either. What are you talking about? Fucking bad. Thing is, I hate reunions.
I didn't want to sit here for hours talking about nothing and dancing around what we really want to say. So now... I know you're happy in New York. I know your husband's rich and sweet and kind here. I know you're unarmed.
And you didn't come here for sex. Because you don't love me anymore. And it's only three minutes past. Another drink?
I'll take that as a yes. It's good to see you, Grice. That'll probably be for you, won't it?
Hello? Arthur? Your answer? Right, so that'll be your side of the street swept up, won't it?
Where's mine? What you got for me? Signed by the Minister of the Empire himself?
Yeah. Yeah. This means that you can put your room in our shipments and I want a pot of Ladox.
We'll lift the canvas. You know what? I'm not ever going to have my lawyer looking at me. No, no, it's all legal. You know what, mate?
I trust you. That's that. Done. So... Whisky.
There is one thing, though, that we do need to discuss. What would that be? It says here... 20% paid to me of your export business.
As we agreed on the telephone. No, no, no, no. See, I've had my lawyer draw this up for us just in case.
It says that here, that 100% of your business goes to me. I see. It's there. Right. Don't worry about it, right?
Because it is totally legal binding. All you have to do is sign the document and transfer the whole lot over to me. Someone just here, is it?
Yeah. I see. That's funny. That is. What?
Nah, that's funny. I'll give you 100% of my business. Yeah. Why?
Olly, no, no, no, no, no, no. Put that down. He understands. He understands. He's a big boy.
He knows the road. Now, look, it's just non-fucking-negotiable. That's all you need to know. So all you have to do is sign the fucking contract. Right there.
Just sign it. It depends. I understand. Good. Get on with it.
Well, I have an associate waiting for me at the door. Now, he looks like a quiet boy, but he is actually an anarchist from Kentish Town. Tommy, I'm going to fucking shoot you, right? No.
When I came in here, Mr. Solomons, I stopped to tie my shoe lace. Isn't that a fact, Ollie? I stopped to tie my shoelace. And while I was doing it, I laid a hand grenade on one of your barrels. Mark 15 with wire trip.
And my friend upstairs, well, he's like one of those anarchists that they blew up Wall Street, you know? He's a professional, and he's in charge of the wire. If I don't walk out that door, I'll have a stroke of seven. He's gonna trigger the grenade and your very combustible rum will blow us all to hell And I don't care Because I'm already dead He tied his lace out for you. And there is a kid at the door.
From a good family to... Olly, it's shocking what they've become. What were you doing when he sat there? Oh, he tied his lace, nothing else.
Yeah, but what were you doing? I was marking the runners in the paper. What were you doing? Just checking the time. Carry on.
Alright, Olly, I want you to go outside. Shoot that boy in the face from the good family. Anyone walks through that door except me, he blows the grenade.
He tied his fucking lace on you. I did tell my lads. I bet, 100 to 1, you're fucking lying, mate.
That's my money. I see you've failed to consider the form. I did blow up me own pub.
For the insurance. Okay, well, considering the fall, I would say 65 to 1. Very good odds. And I would be more than happy and agree if you decide I was 65% of your business to me. Thank you. 65?
No deal. Olly, what do you say? Jesus Christ, Alfie, he tied his fucking lace, I saw him! Look, he planted a grenade, I know he did.
Alfie, it's Tommy fucking Shelby! You were behaving like a fucking child. This is a man's world.
I take your apron off and sit in the corner like a little boy. Fuck off. Now.
Four minutes. Right, four minutes. Talk to me about hand grenades.
The choke mark on the barrel, the knee height. It's a Hamilton Christmas. Took out the pin and put it on the wire.
Based on this, 45%. 30. Oh, fuck off, Tommy. That's farting. In France, Mr. Solomon saw what I was a tunneler, a clay kicker. A 179. I blew up Schwab and Howe.
Same kit I'm using today. It's funny that I do know the 179 and I heard they all got buried. Three of us took ourselves out. Like you're digging yourself out now. Like I'm digging now.
Listen, I'll give you 35%. That's your lot. Thirty-five.
Mr. Sabini, you're late. Have a seat. One up in your nose.
You want to have that brother of yours put down? Oh, I tried that. He bit the best. I told the coppers that you're a fucking gypsy racketeer, piggy blood. They're coming, they're going to throw you out.
Before the king comes up here. Well, from what I saw, the police are a bit busy right now. Did you win any money today, Mr. Sabini?
Where are our coppers? Said to that sergeant one minute, he said two. He's fucking dead.
Like I told you, they're a bit busy. Same as my boys. What the fuck does that mean? What does that mean? Well, my boys are on the track.
They're having a little bonfire. Gaming licenses, you know. Fuck.
You placed too much reliance on the police for your security, Mr. Sabini. That was a mistake. Now think about who you are. Think about where you are.
You pull a weapon. You are the king's assassin. Now sit down. Stay calm. Good.
Now your next mistake, Mr. Sabini, was breaking your promise with Alfie Solomons. You promised Alfie that his bookies could come to Epsom. He was very hurt when you said no.
He was very hurt. That's why me and Alfie are back in business. It's alright, it's alright, officers.
He's just a bad loser. What the fuck? What? You fucking loser!
You fucking gypsy bastard! You're a loser! What the fuck are you looking at? Step back! Move!
You're now a prisoner of the Red Right Hand. Now, take his hat and gun. Get him up. Easy.
Take a seat. Sit down! That's it. You make yourself nice and comfortable.
Just go on for a wee drive, Mr. Shelby. Let's go. In your statement to the house, sir, I believe that you should say that witnesses heard the killers say that they were members of the IRA and that the killing was in retribution for actions of the field marshal in County Cork.
Or a friend from Birmingham. He's being taken care of. Oh, a very good day, sir.
Hank. Sorry, I must go. Goodbye.
Polly. Tommy told me you'd be here. Then I told Tommy it should be me who finishes you. Small and weak. That's how you like it, isn't it?
Well, this time small and weak has got a gun. Yeah, you wouldn't do that here. No.
Do you see any coppers? Yeah, I don't. They're all around your precious king. Mmm Polly, Polly, some part of you I have no parts Some part of you wanted me as well I know that, I felt it And sure as hell some part of me wants you still And not just that part but Some part of my soul.
Some part of my soul. Curious how that is to me and curious that it should be you. Opposites perhaps. Opposites. And that...
That thing sticking in my heart. You own... You own part of that heart. You do. You do, Polly.
You do. Any of you boys in France? You know a man of cigarettes? The Somme? Blackwoods?
Somme the Bulls? Smoke? So fucking close.
So fucking close. Oh, and there's a woman. Yeah.
A woman. Oh, I love when I got gloves. Nearly got fucking everything! What the fuck?
Get it done, boys. Comrade, we have our orders. You know how it is.
I know how it is. I'm the Blackbird Winter. At some point in the near future, Mr. Churchill will want to speak to you in person, Mr. Shelby. He has a job for you. We will be in touch.
Get out of the grave, Tinker. Be on your fucking way! Sun and moon will be replaced with the light of Jesus' face.
And I will not be ashamed, for my Savior knows my name. It don't matter if you bury me. I'll be home and I'll be free. It don't matter anywhere I lay. All my tears be washed away All my tears be washed away All my tears be washed away