I’d like to murder Lady GaGa. But I’m afraid that’s never going to happen. If I really got to meet her, I’d probably just flip my middle finger and run away laughing like a freak. (No, Lady Gaga, you’re not a freak. You’re a pretty millionaire with 50 mansions and a huge factory producing throwaway hits.)


Cause people like you
Make me feel so tired
When will you die?
When will you die?
When will you die?
When will you die?
When will you die?

And people like you
Make me feel so old inside
Please die