My head's a fucking bone balloon that's tethered to the ground by strings of skin and sinew and heavy thoughts that weigh me down. Kaleidoscopic world leaves me lost in swaths of color 'cause I can't help but wondering if we love one another. It's synapses misfiring, it's a lack of serotonin, and the fact that I am not sleeping means my mind's always turning, it's always turning. The story didn't happen the way that you remember it; you are terrible at telling it. You make such a weak protagonist and I make such a handsome miscreant. Obsidian the sharpest blade. The sharks is psyched the water's chummed. Oh inter-dimensional transient, everything will fall to shit cuz you were truly terrible, but you made this drab house to a home. So sit around and cope with everything thing you ever loved and all that's thought will someday rot and disappear, and not exist at all. Ghosts in our DNA dictate who we'll be. My mother was mostly monster and my father was mostly mad, so everything wrong in this world resides within me. The story didn't happen the way that you remember it; you are terrible at telling it. You make such a weak protagonist and I make such a handsome miscreant. Maybe the Earth is a neuron sending out radio communications through intergalactic synapses in the great universal brain. What if I'm God? What if we're all God? After all, we're all just penning our own narratives, we're the authors to our own life stories. We create our own futures with revisionists pasts, coping with the fourth dimension by assigning our own meaning.

Strychnine in line for some dumb shit, I just want a minute of your time. Let's set aside for the moment the things about us we don't like. You're always on my mind and so I lose it all the time, 'cause I don't know, I don't know, I don't know could you tell me about the future? And how you think it will be? And all the places you'll see? And if it includes me? I hope that it includes me. This comedown's gonna kill me. My mind's been lost in a doom loop. This room's a tour of my shortcomings, a haunted map of me and you. Happiness is six feet under ground buried next to a tomb stone that says "see you soon." I'm perpetually bored, I'll be bored to death. I can hear your voice ringing in my head. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know could you tell me about the future? And how you think it will be? And all the places you’ll see? And if it includes me? I know it won’t include me. Time warp. I’m falling back into bed, 'cause I don’t have nothing left inside my head and nothing to say. It’s like a time warp, there’s nothing left to be said, I just want to lay inside my bed. So let me decay. I’m sorry I had to leave.