So you're gonna die someday. Of cancer. Of stupidity. Of AIDS. In a car wreck. In a senseless act of violence. Of old age.
So fucking what?
So you got abused as a kid. Had the shit beat out of you. Lost your wife and kids. Your best friend. Religion.
So fucking what?
You bitch and you fucking moan about how life has been cruel, how it doesn't care about anyone or anything. You can't run from it 'cus it tracks you down wherever you go and doesn't stop until you give everyone that photo-op, a big fucking smile and a handshake.
So fucking what?
You are all mindless sheep, being led to the slaughter by your betters. White trash, rich yuppies, punks, thugs, problem children, stars, junkies- you're all being led around by your fucking noses into a hum-drum life that you're expected to enjoy, against your will. And you know what? It sucks. Sometimes.
So fucking what?
There aren't any answers out there. Not in TV, the news, God, your parents, your friends. Nowhere but you- YOU'VE got all the answers, but you can't share them with anyone else because you're you and no one can be you. You're a fucking mystery to everyone else, even yourself.
So fucking what?
At some point something's got to give. Something's got to get out of your way, yank that goddamn chain everyone's been leading you around with, and snap you out of it. A shock to the system, something. Like getting held hostage for a fucking month in a Stop-N-Rob while the motherfuckers record everything and kill your best friend, who hasn't hurt anyone in his life.
So fucking what?
It's not a religious movement. It's not some cool revelation for the ages. It's not cool at all. It's just life. And it's the coolest thing there is.
So fucking what?