Now look here, don't go 'bout thinking I been killing folk all my life. That'd make you dumber than a hen sharpening the farmers knives. No, what happened, happened. I can't pretend to understand why them things happened: hell, I can't understand why I did some things.
I can't even remember half of what I did.
I'm old now, I keep telling you, I really can't remember. Can't think in straight lines no more, I gotta think something ten times before I know what I'm thinking about.
But I do understand that maybe that's a sign to be moving on.