Boy you really missed the boat. I'll make it simple, so's even fuckin you can understand. Papa God growed us up till we could wear long pants; then he licensed his name to dollar bills, left some car keys on the table, and got the fuck outta town'. Water rushes to his eye-holes. 'Dont be lookin up at no sky for help. Look down here, at us twisted dreamers'. He takes hold of my shoulders, spins me around, and punches me towards the mirror on the wall. 'You're the God. Take responsibility. Exercise your power
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I will hold the candle till it burns up my arm I'll keep takin' punches until their will grows tired I will stare the sun down until my eyes go blind I won't change direction, and I won't change my mind How much difference does it make
I'll swallow poison, until I grow immune I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room How much difference How much difference does it make
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I have one of those real old American built cars. The kind that just PUNCHES through accidents.
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