| Writings In the Stall Is it something inconceivable That I find you unbelievable? I wonder how my life would be If I were you and you were me. I�d lock myself up in a room, Convinced of my depressing doom. For I�ve seen your soul and know it well, There�s not too much inside that empty shell. I find you detestable, Completely egotistical, You sicken me And everything that you see. Your mother must have been a witch Your words called me a gay bitch. You said I had sex with little boys Still playing with heir little toys. Well I guess you must get off on it, I guess you�re just a little shit. But it�s your soul, its yours to sell, May you laugh out loud when you�re in Hell. I find you detestable, Completely egotistical, You sicken me And everything that you see. You think you�re undeniable This thought proves unreliable, You�re not fooling me, Nor anyone that you see. Now one day you�ll clearly see I�m more a man than you�ll ever be, More a woman than you�ll ever get, I say these things without regret. So go your way and I�ll go mine, You keep on thinking you�re so fine. I think its sad, I think you�re sad, I said I think the devil�s fucking with your head. I find you detestable, Completely egotistical, You sicken me And everything that you see. And so one day you will be dead, A naked hooker in your bed, Just like the cheerleaders you used to fuck, Just like the things they used to suck. And all the silent muffled cries Won�t take back the endless chain of lies. For the truth you�ll never tell Even when you�ve gone and died in Hell. |