"What rock did he crawl out from under?"
I'm a world traveler, a jet setter. I'm comfortable there. It's home.
"He's a strange one. A real piece of work, that."
"Does anybody really know that guy?"
I've forgotten me, I've forgotten me...
Is there a way out?
Has anyone else cheated themselves like I have?
If I show their crimes, no one will listen. If I show my crimes, no one will hear. But if I show life as it truly is, then all crimes will be revealed. That's when they come to kill you.
How can I explain not being stupid anymore? I've built whole identities around it.
Portrait of the Artist as a Fraud
I've got these really, really bad vibes...
No one's coming to help you. No one can now.
Sometimes you just look around and say, "Oh my God, what have I done?"
Everything I've built on this identity, I would have to give up. But I can't deny the real one. Life must progress.
Man, am I tired...
I'm Dead Man Walking regardless. All this means nothing
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