I'm having a really hard day;

I'm having a really hard time

I'm having a really hard time—

Yeah, I've lived a really long life

Sometimes the truth is just.lies,

Sometimes, I can't close my eyes

I'm having a really long day

I'm having a really long life

I wanted to sleep early and rise closer to dawn, to of course get the most out of my day and make up for the one I had lost, wandering around hungrier than usual, dehydrated, and spinning round, wound up and feeling more than anxious, not quite manic as I was wholeheartedly drained, but still off—and undoubtedly the reason why had to of course have been my surroundings—I wasn't entirely yet a product of my environment, but on my way to it; it had been 17 days of disgusting toilets, cold and shivering nights dressed in layers and covered in blankets, but still cold enough near the window that my nose was always cold, unless I suffocated myself covering my face; everything was dirty, everyone was sick and tired, and the misery of homelessness had settled in long enough now that I couldn't care any less about myself

‘Are you capable of keeping this nation's secrets?'

‘Probably—but I wouldn't want to.'

Deathwish>< Secret President

I beg your pardon?

You already know enough of them that you should be dead by now.

So what's your excuse for keeping me around?

You realize you're just a front-man for all this crazy shit we do around here?

I—don't care.

Are you drunk?

No, I'm unconscious

Living in this multidimensionality had allowed me to continue writing in such a way that everything I did and said held it's purpose, even if it was uncomfortable or terrible—not that I was exempt from suffering a guilty conscience, as I had still been raised with a sense of good and bad and right and wrong, and even upon understanding that these are just contrucfs, the bitter truth of the matter was that I, or any man, could only truly be trusted with the well-being of one's self and one's own interests, which might as well have been the best interests of this nation, my own stolen country —the American way had always been to escape oppression, only to run elsewhere and take what was needed to ensure one's own freedom; ‘so what of the spirits of the indegenous, then', whose blood continued to run through me no matter how cold or relentless.

It's a trap.

It's all a trap.

I had been crucified in a number of ways, triggered, kept awake, left out in the cold, toyed with and trapped, psychologically terrori

Now I'm confused

(I'm so confused)

Now I'm confused

I'm so-confused

Now I'm confused

(I'm so cofused)

Now I'm

“I'm so —

What the ruck am I looking at right now?

Uhhh…..

What are you doing?

I don't know

I'm so confused

I'm still confused

I'm confused

8'm still confused

IMm so confused—

I'm still confused

Well. If you wanna come back for your shot, I'll be here.

What are you doing.

Can you not

LOOK

I'm just so sick of myself

I'm just so tired of this world

I don't wanna wake up no more

No money, no problem

More money, more problems

Promise

Got a soul full of woes

Got no eyes on the prize

Got no home

And no hope for the world

Gotta go on

Still got my feet on the floor

Gotta go on

Still got no road to the coast

Gotta go on

I guess I'm still a ghost

Gotta go on

I got no love left no more

Gotta go on

Jesus Christ and all the sauce.

ALL THE SAUCE.

Not all the sauce.

I want ALL OF IT.

Lol he's like foaming at the mouth, right?

I—

Check it out.

I told you the government could time travelZ.

What. So they used Skrillex to —

To do what.

UNCLE SAM

I WANT YOU—

ALL OF IT.

UNCLE SAM

—

what. What does Uncle Sam want?

Idk. The charges dropped? Idk.

If he thinks you're lying—he's lying

If he thinks you're cheating—he's cheating

If he thinks that you're leaving—he's thinking of leaving

If he thinks that you need him; he probably needs you

If it feels like you're dreaming, you're probably dreaming—

If it feels like a fairytale, keep make believing

Too good to be true will always have a meaning

If you think you're his only;

Then there's at least three

There's no loyalty, here

Men don't have no monogamy

Men get fed up with the same thing,

Monotony

Being a man is just making monopolies

No propositions, proposals or probablies

God got you fucked up when you're ugly

God got you fucked up for the fun of it

God might make promises,

But it's no wonder,

There's love in her eyes

But there's nothing left under

No wonder.

No wonder

No wonder

No love left

No love left

No love left

No love left

No wonder

All out of water and oneness

All out of reasons to smile

All out out running the mile

And thinking you add up to something g

No wonder

No wonder

No wonder the world's out of water

No wonder

No trophies for breaking the cycle

Unless you become one

And still, you end up in the cycle

Unlikely you'll find the one

You might as well just go back

To the one that owns you

Who's dragging your son through the mud

Yeah

But he's crying for you

No wonder

No wonder

No wonder the worlds out of water

No uncle, no aunt, and no cousins to clothe you or house you

You might have a mountain, if you could just tell the whole world that you come from here

No hope for the humans

No wonder no water was left here

The ocean was rust and the tides had subsided

The water receded

And LA was left on her own

I don't owe an explanation for this insanity

I haven't had a man in a million galaxies

It's not that bad,

Now I dress all in black

Take it back for the countryman

Nobody loves me, man.

I'm just alone and befuddled,

I wanted to love,, but—

Somebody's coughing and keeping this contract of nothing and loveless and homeless;

And there's where I've been, man

How's Paris?

I should be embarrassed,

But really I'm just regressing again,

Depressed as I've ever been,

But taking a lesson in mischievous methods

And Devious determination to get back to LA

and say

“I finally made it”,

And get my makeup on,

And my hair fixed,

And pay off my high rise apartment

Where the AC ain't on, cause

I like it hotter than heaven

Cause Hell is a cold ass, lonely

Soapless, hopeless, homeless shelter

Where nobody loves you

And nobody calls you on your birthdays anyway

So you moved it to August

Cause you'll never see Skrillex or Jimmy Fallon in person,

But for some reason,

You think of them

Fondly.

—For Whatever Reason.

Fuck this.

Somebody's onto me;

Wrote a letter to God,

But God's not answering

Trust me,

You don't want this ugly thing

Under you

Don't offer me a house key

If you give a mouse a cookie;

You probably outta poison it

Oh!

In a world of smoke and mirrors

Everything gets clearer, clearer

He really is rare though,

Really— a limited edition

Genius, Edison

You don't deserve him

I don't want to be the president,

Don't want to be the President

Hey,

Oh!

It's still hell here;

I'll never be perfect

Can starve, but won't be there

Woah!

It's trauma every night

And

Drama every morning

This is not a warning

It's a lesson that you're learning

And a song that you're writing;

You can't write this wrong, no—

You don't belong in this world,

So get off it

Oh,

Woah,

I don't do this often

But I just don't want to go home,

That's just loveless

Ten broken marriages,

Coffins and caskets

And lions and scarecrows—

He won't take me back for this basket

I don't wear a bonnet

I'm done being honest!

It doesn't get you ahead in this

Better off dead and

I'm still just a nigger—

I've always been lost;

But I've already been here

I've already been here

Caught it on camera, eh

Undercover tape recording

Never in the locker room,

But never in my own roomX either

I'm just another one of those

Broken,

Homeless

I don't want to

I don't want to

Want to be the President

YOU CONTROL THE POLICE—

—I RUN THE AMBULANXE,

BITCH,

I RUN THE AMBULANCE

BITCH,

I RUN THE AMBULANCE

Fuxk a phantom

Fuck your Grammy's mammogram

Fuxk you ambivolance and nonchalance

You're just the ops,

I run the ambulance!

I just saw

Johnny wirh the two dogs,

At the shop and shop

Pop-pop,

This ain't no pop-up,

lol

My whole surfboard is taller

This is what you want

This is

This is what you want

This is what you want

This is

This is what you want

This is what you want

This is

This is what you want

This is what you want

This is

This is what you

Don't waste your time

Asking for adderall

They don't want help for you—

MedicicineMa meant to destroy you

All the black skin

In the streets

In the shelters

On the trains and

On the busses

The niggers on seroquel

They will not help you

They want to kill you

Don't take the medicine

If you have black skin

They will not help you

They want to kill you

Adderal, xanex;

It might be addictive—

But those with blue eyes

Are the only ones who get

—they don't even need it

They turn around and sell it

If you have black skin;

They'll give you seoquel

They want to kill you;

You'll think you're all better

But you're out in the streets, in the gutter

Talking to yourself

Pissing on yourself

Scratching off your black skin-

All because you're colored!

If you look like Elohim,

Go ahead, take the medicine;

Yes, you'll feel better;

You'll get to work with Skrillex

They'll give you an amphetamine,

So you feel less pathetic

Finish projects,

Transcendence

Don't take the medicine

If you have black skin

They will not help you

They want to kill you

But if you've got black skin

You're only a nigger/**trigger to them

Take the medicine

To kill you faster

Kill you faster

Finally an ever after

That makes sense to you bastards

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.