Corpo or not, without chrome we all look like the same idiotic, bullet-riddled sacks of meat.

Speaking of harm's way. Know what I see lookin' at you? Walking, talking corpses.

V: Guess I meant, I dunno... a happier ending... for everyone involved.
Johnny: Here, for folks like us? Wrong city, wrong people.

V: You do know that grenade's gonna pop one of these days, right? I avoided, but someone else...
Ozob: I know, I know. We will die someday. Least when I do, there'll be fireworks.

Give yourself time. Ideas'll come. Life'll shake you, roll you, maybe embrace you. The music'll find you.