I went for drinks with Patrick Bateman, At least he looked a lot like him. He went for J&B on the rocks. "What's that?", I asked. He cried: "It's Justerini & Brooks." Does the suit make the man or does the man make the suit? He talked about men's wear and girls and bars and food. There's nothing more to him, so I don't listen anymore, Cause I mean nobody does. He watched that girl at the door. "Oh Pat", I asked, "what's on tonight? Do you humiliate or rape?" All he said was "I have to return some video tapes." At first I really liked this guy but quickly left him alone. I'm glad I did and realized my heart's not made of stone. Like this selfish psycho, stuck in his own world, Pretending to be more than just a superficial jerk. Come on, leave them all alone, you envious asshole, This morning Patty Winter's covered psychopathic Wallstreet-fools. I went for drinks with Patrick Bateman. I'm glad it was a dream. More kind of a nightmare but they feel as real as they seem. This is not my world and this ain't my kind of night, And suddenly he left this room, in his hands a kitchen knife. I don't like shutting books, just a few are left half-read, But Pat, you are the most abhorrent character I've ever met.