Lord of the Doves.

Filthy fucking rats with wings surround me, as I'm about to have myself a glorious picknick. I throw the bread and watch them fight like bums over the small pieces landing in the grass. The are the absolute bottom of society, those filthy, dependent, fucking Rats...

I paid three fifty to travel on the train, the trains are fucked, so they send me on a bus. And I reckon you can't be writing on the bus...

There's no fear anymore, My heart is always on a constant beat. The things that used to be scaring the shit out of me, are now beneath me, I rule my own destiny now, and I look down upon them who aren't. If there's a will, there's a way...