Wired

Ah, I'm afraid I don't get the joke now, externally a clown, screaming banshee trapped within, walls tearing down, nerves stripped and laid bare, head filled to bursting, kissed by apocalypse and sin. Well, if it's funny, then laugh, as if a fifteen pound pancreas isn't a hoot; you people, you kill me, you know, you really do; so get out the steak knives and put in the boot. Beloved self-destruction, short times and fast life, wasted fat ******* buying the farm; pills and coke and heroin, booze and sex and food, I'm the only one to whom I really did harm. What a laugh, what a gas, in the end it's my ass which was groovy and crazy and wired to my head; what a trip, what a scream, an American Dream 'cos everybody loves you when you're dead...