They Did Type Me As A Horror

No, My Friend. We Are Lunatics From The Hospital Up The Highway, Psycho-ceramics, The Cracked Pots Of Mankind. Would You Like Me To Decipher A Rorschach For You?

Billy Here Has Been Talkin' About Slicin' His Wrists Again, So Is There Seven Of You Guys Who'd Like To Join Him And Make It Therapeutic?

I Was Raised A Christian And Was A Stone-faced Acid Head.

The Raw Materials Of Reality Without The Glue Of Time Are Materials Adrift And Reality Is As Meaningless As The Balsa Parts Of A Model Airplane Scattered To The Wind.

This World… Belongs To The Strong, My Friend! The Ritual Of Our Existence Is Based On The Strong Getting Stronger By Devouring The Weak.