Where would I be if it wasn't what it was? The thought of it crosses my mind way too much with a bitter clenched hiss and a guilt ridden buzz. I don't like it but I live it and I won't make the cut if I decide it's not worth it, so I bring the worth up. And I curse and I curse, shit, fuck, Goddammit what did I do to deserve this much jammin me up and it hurts and I'm served too much for me to eat and I burst like I'm cursed with just too much to handle and I buckle in my shoulder the way any mortal man will and I fall down but it don't put out the candle... So I stand still for a moment and I'm glowin and I can deal with the knowin', and the doin', and the showin' showin' fluent, and we'll go there and go through knowing they'll all misconstrue it but it's cool, if it's half true than it's half more than they once knew. Shit.