Feel like just swallowed two sets of chainsaws and still alive.
I'm heard, recognised, and asked to take my already hyped, abnormally excessive, narcissistic self-reflecting analysis to the next level.
Starting with this:
I can't taste chicken out of cheese, I drink black coffee like a fish,
I was caught talking to myself privately.
And I'm writing a fanmail.
Enough about me, let's talk about you for a change, how are you?
Oh, you were finding a shovel to bury a bird.
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