I have been alone for several months on a verge of a level up Caught in a shifting paradigm I've known the strangest pains Played the language games And won a couple of pissing matches in my time Exchanging love tokens Redefining success to include what's broken in my mind I've read the Wittgenstein And sat staring at the ceiling Wondering when I'm going to die I don't need to be comforted I don't need to be comforted I don't need comforts in the form of Avril Lavigne singles You're the dude in Clerks getting his hand caught in a canister of Pringles I'm a Squidbillies animator Rap messiah agitator Chronic bathroom masturbater I wrote it so you could in fact predict it And later tell your friends you contributed to this picnic Then I dramatically took my mask off to reveal myself for what I am A confluence of cheap thrills An impersonator of Will.i.am With a mountain of messy used napkins by my desktop Inventor of a genre like Dubstep, but with less drop For breakfast a can of buttermilk biscuits A viscous nitwit Who picks at shit until he's surrounded by broken idols In the twilight barricaded with bottles of open Midol Rider of waves tidal Writer of imaginary titles Like the Strider But with pants that actually fit my thighs though