Leaving the ground ready for flight, hopelessly lying on this damp floor, and for what rhyme or reason? A kiss on the ass and a drink of some cheap white wine can only gain you entrance into the deep bowels of anger; talking about ya screaming, "Like Fuck That!"
Keep my lie basic so I don't do the roundabout around the looping wheel in my filthy mind. A dirty old bastard is what your Christian god made me into, so who are you to claim superiority?
What a fucking waste of skin!
What a raunchy way to make the story end!
Stressed Out is a bitter old fuck!
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