My Own Kind of Time

Sorry for keeping you
We had a kid outside
Screaming about his girlfriend
Being sent back to England

Like England's a shithole or something

I spent a semester in London in college
I'd hop on a plane back there now
If you gave me a ticket

Fuckin' kids, you know
Everything's the end of the world

They offer you a cigarette?
A drink?  Some water?

How long you been in here anyway?
You know?

Nah, you wouldn't I guess
Not without a clock
Unless you just have one of those
Hyper-sensitive senses of time or something

You got that?  That extra sense?

Some people do

My father always knew what time it was
Right before he lost his fucking mind

Now he sits around talking about
My grandfather and time stamps
And all this weird shit

Sounds like Stephen Hawking
But without the machine

Sad fucking thing
When your parents lose their minds, you know?

At least he got a good run out of his
Some people don't even get that

So how long do you think you've been in here?

Or maybe the better question is--

How long do you think we can keep you here?

How long do you think this can go on?

Tell you what
Fuck, I'll give you the answer
Why beat around the bush, right?

I can keep your miserable fucking ass here
In that fucking seat
For as long as I want

And I don't have to tell you why
And I don't have to tell you what you did
Or what we think you did
Or anything that you think we might have to tell you
Based on anything you might have seen
On some bullshit cop show

You are fucked, do you understand me?
You're fucked

And the only way that's gonna change
Is if that piece of paper
That we put in front of you
Has a nice story on it waiting for me
The next time I come back in here

Because if it doesn't

I'll leave you in here to rot
Like the fucking carcasse
You already are

You're worthless

Nobody's going to come looking for you

And you can call all the lawyers you want
And they can come after me for this and that
And not giving you your rights
And I can have my ass handed to me in court
But first, I gotta let you outta this room
And that's not happening
Until you write me that story

And if later on--

Hang on a sec

HEY!  TURN OFF THE CAMERA BACK THERE
YOU HEAR ME?
TURN OFF THAT FUCKING CAMERA!

Okay, now let me just clarify something

If, later on
After you write me that story
And I send in some faggot lawyer
To get their fucking queer spit in my face
Because all they do is fucking talk talk talk

If you tell that lawyer
That you gave me this story
Under duress
Because I made you?

I'll break your fucking neck
And don't think I can't

I'll go to your fucking house
Find that wife of yours
And cut her fucking fingers off
In front of that daughter of yours, okay?

Now, I'm being serious right now

You did what you did
And you're going to do the time for it
And if you try weaseling out of it
I'm going to make you do my own kind of time

You understand me?

We clear?

Fantastic

Now let me go get you some water

You look thirsty

You look like you could use
A nice drink