With Weezy F summoning the spirit of “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” for Tha Carter 3 and admitting that he needs “Help!,” it seems like the rapper the Beatles could have been is taking drugs in a very serious way. (I’m just surprised he hasn’t hopped on “Rehab” yet… maybe it hits too close to home). The rate at which Wayne churns out songs and the mindstate that he appears to be in while doing so ensures that much of his recent catalogue is like a lyrical Rorschach test, offering random snippets of his subconscious without any sort of filter. This is generally a good thing, but it can get confusing. To try to get a handle on things, I sat in an empty room with “Dying” and wrote down what I heard. I’m pretty sure this is what they do at the University of Iowa Writer’s Workshop…

– Listen to “Dying” here.

I Feel Like Dying, by Dwayne Carter

Please notify me when all of the drugs in your possession have been consumed, seized, or otherwise disposed of. I literally feel like perishing, most likely because of the drugs that I myself have consumed, but I can’t really be sure. Meanwhile, I think that you should become inebriated as well, because then you too can laugh as if you are an anime character. But if you do choose to follow me into this psychedelic realm, take everything I say with a grain of salt. Remember that in spite of my rather fun and jocular demeanor, I want to end myself. It’s touch and go!

Anyways, I am currently seated in a rather unlikely position atop a cloud. Rather humorously, some sort of gaseous smoke is pouring out of my anus! Again, that may be from the drugs, but I can’t be sure. What I do know is that I love sports, and even though I look quite small, I am actually so massive that I use the moon as a basketball when I shoot hoops.

As I said, I love sports. Let’s play more of them! I’m currently participating in a game of touch football on a street constructed from marijuana plants. Not, really, that would be absurd! It’s actually a field, which is great because it means I can wear my favorite cleats that are useful for trampling humans. It might hurt if I trample your face, but only because you have not yet done what you were told and ingested Class-A drugs. I have!

They make me feel tired. I would like to lie down. I have probably taken so many drugs that you could literally put my flesh in a cigar, smoke it, and become chemically imbalanced. I wouldn’t mind at all, because I still feel like dying, so burning to death for your benefit is totally fine! Still call me when the drugs are gone though. I’m still very interested in the result of that one, as well as dying.

I’m really getting a workout today! Now I’m swimming laps in a pool that seems to contain some sort of island-bar serving top shelf liquors like Louis XIII de Remy Martin. It’s actually a pretty amazing waterpark with diving boards that look like mountains and water that has the same restorative effects as very strong painkillers. I’ve reached the apex of the waterpark’s tallest attraction, but I’m going to try to climb even higher to impress the other kids. If I fall it won’t matter because I have discovered an amazing ability to turn the ground into wine, a feat that is arguably more impressive than performing the same trick on water. Jesus is black! Haha. I call my wine Chateau du Weezy.

Now I do not feel like speaking English anymore, so I will just say the word “pop” a few times to simulate the ingestion of more pills. Doing that makes me feel like burning again, and then dying. I really can’t stress enough how much I want to die.

These are some reasons why I am awesome: I can socialize with A-list celebrities and probably even afford to have a party on a different planet. Call me Lance Bass! But the celebrity life is tiring and dull: sometimes I feel that I am incarcerated in a figurative prison made of anti-depressants, insofar as everything I do is meaningless.

I just got on the plane and am calling from the very overpriced phone in the headrest in front of me. The pilot is nowhere to be seen, which may be a terrorist threat. Perhaps Code Orange? I am having trouble remembering what colors mean and where I am going. I have some flowers, but they have died, just as I hope to do.

Even though it sounds depressing, I sincerely wish you could feel what I’m feeling. I would like to find my drug dealer and buy some drugs to share with you, but if he doesn’t have any I will just go fall back on my previous plan of dying.

I am laughing! This is fun! Bye!