Sympathy for the Devil, and 39 other saliva-laden ballads

Self-loathing and jejuneness are such bourgeoisie symptoms. Spare me your complaints and trepidations. No, I am not interested in your middle-class routine. Go buy yourself a pretty dress and wear it to the ball, show it off to the faceless and the anamorphic, but watch out! Those disarming smiles are loaded with razorblades and they will devour you! I've got some bad news for you sunshine the groovy mellow notes you shamefully paint yourself with will not save you from the violating jolts of the big bad motherfuckin' electric gofuckyourself. Be not so fearful, the nice doctor will save you. He'll give you that hystarectimonious shot in the leg and will set you on your gilded-paved way. As for me...well, I've got to go meet the man with the moving camera by the crossroads at midnight. He said something about helping me out with these blurry blood vessels that run from inside my eye and into my nose .It'll cost you, he said. So now I'm down that smoke stuck inside my solar plexus from those cigarettes burned during that cold life-affirming morning.