In the end, I will not sell you or do anything bad to you. Stupid! I don't mean you of course. You're not stupid. But there are stupid people out there. Out there in this African jungle. I have seen them. They make noise. Braindead turds. They'll never get my music. Real music. They'll never hear it. The only thing they'll ever know is the noise. I pass them on the street with their clothes. Stupid halfwits. They'll never get the music that I make. All these perfume scented shmucks.
Sometimes, secretly, I think, how about I rape one of these bastards. Sometime in the dark. It's my favourite pastime to wonder about such things you know. Just rip off that stupid miniskirt, and shove you in there. And then run away. No one will ever know. Just so they can understand why your music is more special than anything playing inside their stupid headphones. Do you understand? See I know that you understand. You understand me. You understand me more than that cow of a mother in the village. Mother this is my art! This is my art you cow. And she always had something hurtful to tell me before it all began. She hated me. I swear she hated me from the very moment I came out of her.
This place always reeked. I got the word right this time. Even now, it still reeks of marijuana, cigarettes and alcohol. Marijuana, cigarettes and alcohol. These are the three vices of these people . I should move out of this place. I don't like this place one bit.
It's dark again. No I blinked for too long. I open my mouth: I call out. I can't hear myself. I call out again. This time I can hear myself. Every word I say feels foreign to me. Probably because it is.
I see a woman. Oh I remember her. It's the lady from the bar. Her skin is darker than ever before. My friend if you could only see her. It's like she was dipped in the blackest ink and her skin soaked it all up. I have to check my own skin colour now and again to stop myself from getting dark as her. I have to.
Speaking of the village, we have to go back there. I have to find a way to get my boys away from that whore of a woman. She is most likely poisoning them against me right now. She wants them to hate me. They're my boys. They are mine, not hers. I have to go and get them.
