Don’t fuck with your brain, man; it’s the only you you’ve got! Just take a look at the scarecrow. He did and look at him: straw for brains, that’s all he’s got … straw for brains.
Take it from me, you don’t wanna fuck with your brain — you never know when you might need it.
On and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and ….
There’s someone in my head and it’s not me.
Sometimes I just wish he’d shut up. Night and day, day and night … constantly drawing attention to himself, centre of attention and all that crap.
He claims to be me, but I’m not convinced.
Sometimes he is, I’ll accept that — sometimes he takes control and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I feel such a strange colour.
It was someone else who said that … just after we all thought he’d die.
Summed me up completely.
Why does everyone else always say what I can’t?