Gerald teaches us how to time travel the inter dimensions, eventually escaping Skrillex.


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


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


[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

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