I'm not here to entertain you
I'm here to meet my friend the Russian, the Irish, the German, the Colombian
I don't care how bad I fuck up
I care about how fucked up I get
I'm not your clown, I'm your dealer
And I'm holding three bundles of bullshit
And you're buying 'em 'cause you are addicted
To the pure and totally uncut
I'm not here to amuse you
I'm here to abuse my body
I'm here because old habits die hard
And, seriously, what else am I supposed to do?
This isn't my job, my hobby, my habit; it's sad
But this is my life
Welcome to our mission statement
And not giving our all
Watch us fall
It's not that we don't pull it
It's just that we only give about sixty-or-so percent
Would you rather be fed bullshit
From some twenty-something, makeup-wearing pop-star?
"This one goes out to all our fans all over the world!
Without you, it'd just be us!
So I just want to say thank you! We fucking love you, Modesto!
And you're taking it easy before the show
So you won't lose your voice and disappoint your fans routine
You don't care about the children, you don't even know them
All you know is their money
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