Point and shoot

I wanna tear off Lara Stone's perfect head, put it in a jar with formaldehyde and place it in my bookshelf right next to Kafka.

My life's gonna end up in flames. This is a story written decades ago. My life's gonna end. I sleep in granny's Gucci, her pistol in my hand.

I didn't set the rules. I never signed up for this. So what THE FUCK can I do when all the intruders are wearing my face?