I think I’ll be on my way now, and I don’t care about your failures and your headaches that I can’t cure. Cause I don’t need your business suits, paychecks, and clauses. Integrity is something frauds like you don’t possess. I’ll wipe the stars outta my eyes; trust in DIY. Get your filthy hands off what’s mine. Your lazy ways, your lazy face, your lazy games have dragged me down too far. Down and out with battlescars. Suck like a leech. Art is money. Emotion’s worthless. And you can teach how failures look so smooth and flawless. Risin’ to challenges you can never reach. Just a Big Bloody Satire of something real.

 

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