Story behind the song
Slow blues sung in a sort of first person, deliberately on my part, mimicking the words used by my anonymous murderous detractors. This does not involve people whom would have no problem speaking to me personally, to my face, if they had a problem with me. Cowards are not my problem, though, of course, behind my back trouble-makers most certainly are.
I challenged, through posts, the bastards sitting on my name to be specific as to where my apparent madness can actually be seen. They simply referred to their 'telepathic football match', in other words, their own mouths. They'll be into expressions, salesmen expressions, such as "What's the problem?" In truth, and as I have mentioned numerous times, they couldn't find a reason for hating me, for attacking me, so now their attack against my character is an 'investment' as they are 'angels'. It's bahooney, pure fiction. They have never been anything but pure unjustified jealous hatred, which apparently is just fine in their world as all, all, consider themselves to be winners.
Life is a game for the wealthy?
They'll be lying, at a certain point, such as today, right now, my 'sins' are so great they cannot be ignored. More bahooney. Their lies stem from, from what I gather, from following their women. This is conveniently considered heterosexual, and thus beyond reproach. The implication then is that I am homosexual, but that, apparently, is not their motivation. I'm not a homosexual, or even a bisexual, and is more, yet more bulldust on their part. Nor did I volunteer to be their 'rat policeman' so others could pass the buck. I appreciate what a dire problem for everyone you all now have for unleashing them, the pandora you can't put back in the box, but to continue to regard that as my problem is cruelty and outrageous lack of conscience. If you can't stop psychopaths from lying put them in a mental institution.
"Just claim drugs and away we roll ......."
The trick no doubt is to lie as fast as they can, trusting that their 'expertise' against anything I do will be faster than I can do it. A race in other words, that makes me smoke, which makes me a snake, yet would make any man smoke. They are ignoring, and even lying I am not, a 56 year man with a heart condition.
I won't bend to their enslaving slander. They feel aggrieved about that. The other bastards supporting them are apparently on board with that.
They will claim that if the 'psychic football match' with my head is audible enough these posts don't matter. The singer not the song. How convenient. In the same breathe they will claim that their case against me is not serious enough to need to face me. Again, how convenient, and for them, not a contradiction. They'll claim they are 'angels' for 'putting themselves out at all' and that I should be grateful, even though I still have not a clue who the hell they are and they are never nice. The closest they get to nice is to pretend to be cutie pies incapable of silence. They will claim that that somehow makes them the source of all creativity, and again, I should be grateful.
They will claim I have a foul mouth, and lying myself, even though nothing comes out of my mouth, which again they will lie about, and not that I am telling them no to the 'with me', the 'with it'. Again, endlessly convenient. They indulge in pure hatred. I will be considered a bastard myself if I hate them back.
They will claim I am a conspiracy, a hater of the middle class, a man that bucks the 'system', which they represent. More bahooney. They will be repeating themselves without conscience knowing, to their mates, they can cleverly blame it all on me. They will claim they are important people, or not, and thus who else is 'going to do it'. They will claim to be sufficiently 'gods' that forcing me to be the diary of their awesomeness is just punishment. They will claim "It's only Rob Phillips", even though they deny me my own name, so
