Tell me where do I belong in a sick society?

Conceived in anger, addicted to hate, the mutant child of a twisted state.

I open the door for old ladies, I help old ladies across the road. I do a show for leukemia every year, but I don't broadcast that because it's against my image.

There are no unbeatable odds, there are no believable gods.

If you go out for a drink, you go out for a drink. You don't think, 'I'll have a few pints. I'll piss up this shrine.'

I hyperventilate opening a box of chocolates. I'm the most nervous guy in the world, a frightened little man on red alert from when I wake until I go to sleep. I was born with fear.

What is the world coming to?