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I'd like to be the generic stoner that normally is one of the first to get killed off. And Massacre, I know you'd find a brutal way to kill me off. Cause I know you totally hate me. And I have to have terrets and be a narcoleptic. So one minute im fipping out, the next im passing out. I tell you its gold!
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You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking khakis. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.
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