I've been into Incubus too much lately.
A decade ago, I never thought I would be at twenty-three twenty-six on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Woe-is-me. But I guess that it comes with the territory: an ominous landscape of never-ending calamity. I need you to hear, I need you to see that I have had all I can take and exploding seems like a definite possibility to me. So pardon me while I burst into flames. I've had enough of the world, and its people's mindless games. So pardon me while I burn, and rise above the flame. Pardon me, pardon me. I'll never be the same.