Gerald teaches us how to time travel the inter dimensions, eventually escaping Skrillex.
ENTER THE MULTIVERSE.
End Credits Music
"#Me Too"
I hate you
—I hate you
I hate you—
I hate you.
I hate you,
I hate you
I hate you, and
I hate me, too
Me too, me too
I would be at peace
If this was the sequel
Give me some seroquel
Give me a pencil
This is so mentally ill, it's ridiculous
Don't know who Skrillex is,
And if I'm being honest,
I haven't believed in God, since I got
Lost in and tossed around like the salad
That's too expensive for my snap balance
It's all that I have, no cash
In this toxic once upon a fallen angels just
End up in the waste basket
I hate magnets,
And I hate space,
And I hate Elon Musk, cause he looks happy
And I hate Kayla Lauren, cause she's so much better than me
Now she has everything
Now she has everything
Now she has everything
I ever never needed
Ever needed a Father,
But I forgot,
I wasn't a mother.
No, I'm just a lover,
No, I'm just a thief
This is Cree:
I keep my secret in the sink
And then repeat the things that make you think
They might just work, if I believed
I don't believe in anything,
Except Sonny and his Grammy's
—Man, I had to.
If I had a sandwich for every thing I ever wrote about
Dillon Francis,
They'd all go bad, cause I don't got a fridge to keep them in, or put the magnet on I got with my
EDC box;
I don't know where those tickets are—
X marks the spot
Homelessess don't deserve PO Boxes
But I bout those tickets
Thinking I could just go back to Gaia
Or to Gods
But they all lost us
*coughs* is awful, honestly, lol
Is that the bitch who has the voodoo doll in
Not a God, but once was my favorite music box
I just lost it,
I went off the one,
And landed in the underground
Where someone bought my stock,
And stalks me daily, cause he fell in love
Or something;
Everything is just another song, or poem
I just want to die,
Or take a nap,
But my car's an oven, and I'm over done
I wrote this all for Sonny, and he blew me off
I knew him once,
But that was long ago,
I just have shoes, and socks, and bras
I'm at golds gym for 6 hours at once,
With a lunch break
But can't make breakfast, like a dunce
The homeless ones work harder, faster, better stronger
Now I'm Kanye,
Like the privileged ones who look and gawk at us,
In parking lots
They're robots for the gram,
I spam my Google docs,
And get pissed off,
Cause I get ripped off constantly by someone
In Hollywoodland
Who's been reading all my conscious thoughts
Then sells them off for pennies on the dollar
Like I'm not the one who wrote em
Fuck.
Where's Donald Duck?
We're out of fuxks and out of lunches,
Have some lynches instead, or just take this dissick
You won't make it with the competition of genetics and geniuses;
I knew Evil was eating Good for dinner , when I seen Excision and at intermission ran back to my tent and found a Skrillex in it.
“No you didn't.”
Okay then, but only cause I respected him…
(and then I didn't)
Since he neglected all the love I sent, all these times I spent, all the dimes I spent on his albums—now I resent him,
And his basic fitness instabitch
I shouldn't mention it, but did—
The Skrillifiles are so infinite, I wish I didn't invent it;
didn't even get to explain the centrifugal forces that spun me into it, and that's my favorite thing I've never written,
Cause I lived it.
In the name of Satan/Sonny/ Skrillex
Amen
[Just kill me.]
£
I hate you
—I hate you
I hate you—
I hate you.
I hate you,
I hate you
I hate you, and
I hate me, too
Me too, me too