i want to see that ass clap.

Kissing up on panic, and switch shifting between low and maniac
I'm three different persona's, but I am not three different people.
Your peace and your love just couldn't replace the medication, and it just couldn't make me better again.
. . .

Just because you think you're distracted by where your eyes stray,
doesn't mean the monsters in your head are going to go away. . .
. . .

There's one hundred and twenty scabs on my brain, and I cannot be fucking bothered to pick them away.
Gives me some character, and I need more something in my life
I need direction, I need religion, I need a husband, I need a wife.
and I continue kissing these electricity outlets, and chewing on the chords coming out of it.
But what else is there to do, who else is there to see, and my rage is still the only thing 'deep' about me.
. . .

So now I wind up here, surrounded by long-legged gypsies with five minute cures
Licking off the blood, and imitating the cross - it's only then they say I will become pure.
I'm just an emotional staircase;
each step is a step closer, but it's also a step further away.
You're just always too close for comfort and too fast for closure.