A Lot Of People Into Tool, For

All I Can Do Is Say I Smell A Rat. I Don't Know Where It Is Or What Kind Of Rat It Is, But As An Artist, I Can Express How. But I Couldn't Responsibly Stand Up And Tell People Which Way To Go, Because Then I'm Just As Guilty As The People Who Are Telling Everybody Else What To Do And Where To Go.

Today's Woman Puts On Wigs, Fake Eyelashes, False Nails, Sixteen Pounds Of Make-up/shadows/blushes/creams, Living Bras, Various Pads That Would Make A Linebacker Envious, Has Implants And Assorted Other Surgeries, Then Complains That She Cannot Find A 'real' Man

Life Feeds On Life... Feeds On Life Feeds On Life... This Is Neccesary... This Is Necessary Life Feeds On Life... Feeds On Life

There Were A Lot Of Choices To Make And I Always Picked Artist. I Never Once Picked Doctor, Lawyer, Firemen Or Something Like That. It Was Always Artist.

I Want To Find A Genie In A Bottle That Can Grant Me Three Wishes. I Want To Be Able To Speak, Read, Write, And Understand Any Language Ever Written Or Spoken, Just Any Language Throughout The History Of Man. That Would Be One Of My Wishes From The Genie, So I Would Have To Put "multilingual" On The Resume, Should I Ever Find The Genie.