Sanssouci Palace - Milo

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

Imma 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 I actually fit my thighs though