I hate it that you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
When satire turns explicit, it might not necessarily get boring: the world is the circus setting for kaleidoscopic freak shows, about class, race, gender, religion, family... interwoven by an aimless, futile journey. Some lines shine timeless light.