I binge eat erasers and staplers, sitting in corners with puppies as they fart out toxins that scare away haters. My lyrics are the ingredients of the curse of helen keller if there's any evidence of evolution it would have been in monkey turds found in the homeless shelter. I don't have a lot of friends my brain is snorted away, like the last line of Ike turner as he went clean as he inhaled his last line of cocaine. Anal lube tube is the new informant so while I'm listening to the psychosis in my head let Obama write the documentation of FEMA endorsement. I hate what I`am, I hate what I've been, I have what I'm becoming and I hate that I can't strangle my sins.
