I should just fucking migrate to Iceland and be stuck up in a tree busy being a squirrel.

Hands out and head up to the skies, I'm grateful for the shit friends I got.

All the hubbub about being there?

Yeah, apparently that's unreliable insurance.

Not to forget a wrong fucking blame put on you since the start of the

fucking Saturday morning, and your mother has to throw a bloody tantrum

because her Up There, hasn't been properly screwed well for the past

century. 

May the heavens bless this home of hypocritical potatoes.

And before you pick out my flaws.

I think yours are up your ass.

"Next time you point a finger,

I'll point you to the mirror."

So old, yet so young at heart.

Damn woman do you need therapy for your fucking mood swings?

After all you suffered from... you know.

Since you're aging. 

Better save your face otherwise you're going to throw countless and umpteen

threats at me again, which is going to fuck my mind up.

Hallelujah for you.