I'm sure you don't realize that it hurts, but it's my head and you keep kicking it, and that's the crazy way my body works. I'm sure you can't comprehend my pain, but I'm beginning to lose consciousness from the hemorrhaging inside my brain. Though I fear permanent injury, I feel that I must compliment the skill you've mastered causing pain upon my cranium, you bastard. Yesterday was a daydream half as good as present time but for the fact that you keep kicking me and my head keeps on exuding slime. Things are going quite well. The sun is blue. The clouds exonerate the inconsistent metaphor that shakes the ground I'm standing on. Arrange your thoughts again my friend. Think it through. Reconsider this: My brain's been hit. Red droplets spew. Stop ruining my day, you shit head. At the risk of sounding obdurate, you're doing such a super job. I think I'd rather have a truck race on my head instead, you fuck face. You don't cut it out, I'll soon be dead to rights damn certain that you suck. 'Cause it's my head.