Fatten up this goose up, set fire to my forehead, lighter light, set fire to the woodshed, shed your skin before you train your head, try in bed, try whatever, drugs or jail time for cursing at feds, cursed flesh and bones, modern day corporate moans 

so sweetheart what I say to you is, sorry for acting like I’m the only one in the world, shit, i guess I’ve just turned into a text message that’s out of pitch

out of breath, out of some witch, craft, morphing into a pile of nothing but smack, 

and the local dope dealer is sold out on crack.

I love you, sorry about all this and that.