(whispering) Sweet Caroline…

Lincoln.

(closing his eyes) Don’t… don’t sing it.

And the guard tower?

I’m redesigning the next tattoo to exclude Neil Diamond.

Sweet Break, Caroline

Three more feet. Then we’re under the yard.

I’m not singing it.

We are literally about to die.

BAH BAH BAH!

Good times never seemed so good —

NO.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

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