Cut to pieces

Cut my life into pieces. This is my last resort. Suffocation, no breathing, don't give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding.

You will be firing down on them, and you can use everything you have, even mortars. You will cut them to pieces.

Last time we played Cardiff, in the early 80s, we kicked the fuck out of them, cut them to pieces.

They were hotly pursued by the English, who, having lost but a single vessel in the fight, might have cut them to pieces, had not Elizabeth's suicidal economy stinted them in body powder and provisions.

Ana could imagine watching this on TV at home, and how exciting it must be. How gleeful the audience would be, watching Downs cut them to pieces.