I opened my mouth, and now I'm in trouble.

But it's a good kind of trouble. Like, the type of trouble I want to be in.

See, that's really strange about me. There's trouble I like to be in, and trouble I can do without. And this is the kind of trouble I love. Why? Because I'm a scandalous nutcase. My god, doesn't anyone see the neon sign that indicates that I'm nothing but trouble?

"Then it comes to be, that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel, is just a freight train coming your way...."