Well I guess its true.

I don’t know what to do.

These monsters in my closet got me running like Scooby Doo.

It’s black and white just like 1932.

Me, a runaway who would’ve knew.

So tired of the bullshit.

Tired of the madness.

Fuck it.

I’d rather be a bandit.

A ruthless havoc,

A problem to society.

The world will know me by my notoriety.

They’ll say “He used to be a nice sweet little boy but now he’s such a criminal with all these evil ploys. 

I hear he’s got a gun.

I hear he’s not a man.

Just some weird missing link who doesn’t understand.

Damn I’d love to give him a hand.

But man, I just got so much time on my hands.

I’ll sit back and laugh.

Puff on this zig-zag as they question me if I’m a criminal.

Yeah dude I’m mad like a cow gone bad eating shit with his dad.

Don’t matter where I am or who you are.

I’m fine as long as I can sit.

Then I’ll walk up in your place spit in your face.

And be out like a race.