I'm not here to entertain you
I'm here to meet my friend the Russian
The Irish, the German, the Columbian
I don't care how bad I f** up
I care about how f**ed up I get
I'm not your clown
I'm your dealer
And I'm holding three bindles of bullsh**
And you're buyin' them 'cause you are addicted
To the pure and totally uncut
I'm not here to amuse you
I'm here to abuse my body
I'm here because old habits die hard
And seriously, what else am I supposed to do?
This isn't my job, my hobby, my habit
It's sad, but this is my life
Welcome to our mission statement
Total self-debasement
And not giving our all
Watch us Fall!
It's not that we don't pull it
It's just that we only give about 60 or so percent
Would you rather be fed bullsh**
From some 20-something, makeup wearing, popstar
"This one goes out to all our fans all over the world
Without you, we'd just be us.
So, I just wanna say thank you!
We f**in' love you, Modesto!"
f** you!
And you're takin' it easy before the show
So you won't lose your voice
And disappoint your fans routine
And you don't care about the children
You don't even know them
All you know is their money