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I hadn't really thought about the kind of music I wanted to make. I was just making raps and stuff. I thought that was the coolest thing in the world.

You know them days you just got the blues, All stressed and depressed from just watchin' the news? No matter what good you do, it seems you always get screwed. Got you caught up in your feelings, now you off in the mood. Shake that attitude and do what you can, Set a couple goals, follow through with your plans. Time waits for no man and tomorrow's not promised, So if she's still alive, shoot a call to your mama. Cause the fighting and the drama, it's just not worth it, Nobody's perfect, ain't none of us worthless. We all got a place, and we all got a purpose.
I sleep all day. Noises flit around the house- garbage truck in the alley, rain, tree rapping against the bedroom window. I sleep. I inhabit sleep firmly, willing it, wielding it, pushing away dreams, refusing, refusing. Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion. [...] It is afternoon, it is night, it is morning. Everything is reduced to this bed, this endless slumber that makes the days into one day, makes time stop, stretches and compacts time until it is meaningless.

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