Dude! Stop being such a limp-dick, candy-assed queerbait and listen to some motherfucking Cannibal Corpse with your fucking bro. That's Chris Barnes, dude's wicked fucking sick. I know shit ain't goin' too cool for you with your mom marrying that dickwad, and you getting suspended for punching that fucking asstard in gym, but forget that shit for now, bro. Just chill and smoke some of this shit my older brother's buddy brought back from Amsterdam. Oh, fuck dude, you hear that bass player? He's hella fucking brutal, his name's Alex Webster, dude is fucking sick. This song is killer. It's called "Scattered Remains, Splattered Brains,"duuuuuuude. "Prepare to witness a place of gore/Of legal dissection and blood on the floor/Carved up corpses, in the corner/Sliced up by a psychotic coroner/Slice, dice, chop them haphazardly/Like laboratory mice, splatter brain matter/Pound on the skull until it shatters." How fucking sick is that shit, bro? Dude, things are gonna get better, they fucking gotta, man. Soon we'll be 18 and we can get the fuck out of this bullshit town. We can get a place in the city and start our fuckin' band, bro. We'll play some sick ass brutal shit, bro. Oh fuck, "Born in a Casket." This song fucking slaaaaaays. He's totally singing about banging some dead bitch. "I love to fuck the dead/demons in my head/Tearing at my brain." Yeah, man, don't let all this dumb shit fuck you up. 1990 is gonna be a killer fucking year for us, dude.