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Now if you're so strong and responsible
I think it's about time you started cleaning up your own damn messes
because I don't want to be the janitor around these parts anymore.
You're 54 years old,
or you're 20 years old
or you're 17
and you know everything there is to know, right?
Right?
In any case, that IS the impression you're trying to hand out to passers-by.
Well here's a brain teaser, Captain Omniscient...
why do you have to run to me
if you're so self-sufficient?
And then why do you insist on treating me like shit afterwards?
And one more question:
if perfection was a jellybean, would you eat it?
Would you just have to have it?
See, I think you would; in the conquest of being perfect yourself.
But really, you'd just be hiding it in darkness
and no one would ever get to see it.
No one would see the perfect truth
or perfect beauty
or the perfect life
if you had anything to say about it. Because then yours would all pale by comparision.
So you just sit around and wait for the world to come to you
while I persist
and persist and persist
hot on the trail of a better day
and the perfect jellybean.
You drink your beer
and you tell me your problems
and fervently refuse to move your rooted feet.
Chew my ear off chewing the fat as you chew a big hole in my side.
I've got things to do today, alright?
So leave me alone.
And if,
*SomEHoW*
you do stumble across that jellybean...
MY fucking jellybean,
I do suggest you don't put it anywhere near your filthy mouth
because if you do, remember this:
I have no problem with the idea of plunging my hand down your throat and getting it back.
Nor am I disgusted by the idea of going through the soft flesh of your stomach to get my fingers on it...
because there's no one more suited in the world to guard and hold onto that little icon of perfection than I am.
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