Chapter 3: Bitch You Thought
They tell me I'm the mud,
My foul mouth loves that.
To make it tastier,
I lower it to their standard.
Just to match the level of competency of fucktards.
Unless they're named Google,
POOF, I lost interest.
Don't worry I have a halo,
The horns just hold it.
I'd also go to hell,
But I choose not to see you.
However, if I wanted to kill myself,
I'd climb your ego and jump to your IQ.
Since you're the reason directions exists,
I have neither the time,
Nor crayons to explain this to you.
Buh-bye.
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