I don’t want to sound like one of those crotchety old curmudgeons who isn’t grateful that his music resonates with such a wide audience, but I cannot for the life of me believe how many times people completely miss the point of my lyrics. I get it that people want to relate to art subjectively, but I just read a piece on Medium suggesting that my latest single, ‘Crank My Hog With Barbed Wire Brass Knuckles’ is an elaborate take on overcoming suicidal ideation and following your dreams. It is not.
Let me make myself very clear… I was not trying to be coy or ambiguous about my unfettered desire to have my shaft and sack mutilated by a willing third party through the questionable use of foreign objects. I’m only truly happy when my bean bag is getting mercilessly whipped with the hard end of a dog leash, and I tend to write about what makes me happy. No subtlety. No nuance. Just good old-fashioned cock and ball torture is all I need to get my motor going.
Hell, the word ‘metaphor’ is a stretch because you really don’t need to read between the lines at all.
Okay, so maybe I could see how lines like “transcend the pain, let it carry you away,” could have a number of different meanings. But as the guy who wrote the damn lyrics, I assure you that I came up with the verse while slamming my nuts under a toilet seat using my full body weight. It’s not about overcoming the abandonment issues I have with my father or getting over a significant break-up. It’s about aggressively servicing my goods until they’re out of order for an entire fucking week.
At the end of the day, I really don’t care what kind of message you take away from my music. By the same token, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t absolutely disgusted to the point of wanting to change careers when I was tagged in a gender reveal post on Instagram that used lyrics from ‘Stick a Fork in Me, I’ll Cum’ as a caption.
I guess what I’m trying to say is although my art is no longer mine once I share it with the world, the only thing I really care about is finding a woman who’s brave enough to put out a cigarette on my crotch by stomping on it with her stilettos. And if you keep buying my albums I can probably hook that up, so thanks… I guess.