Deadlines, deadlines; hey, maybe just don't care.
It doesn't make that big a difference when you're tearing out your hair
over your own shit, over their shit, when there's nothing you can do.
It's not worth it, it's not working; really, what's it gonna prove?

And maybe It's all over for you, but it just began for me.
(I mean, sure ninety-five percent is still too small for me to see)

But maybe I just heard that term for the first time the other day,
And it made so big a difference that I can't throw that away.

Let's not forget the reason that I'm stressing, getting ulcers;

(I mean, yeah I got an offer to help stop a worthless pulse (hers)

Live it up, drink it down; what kind of role model would that be?
tighten up, bring it down; who looks up to you?  Not me.

There's a bunch of stuff I don't appreciate, you bitch,
so just do me a favor, and stay out of my shit.
Maybe if I were off my guard, you woulda killed me that night.
Maybe if we weren't in the yard, there would've been a big fight.
Maybe if I weren't such a puss, I would be free of you by now.
I mean, they all keep telling me to, but I really don't know how.

And you guys don't fucking know; it's not as easy as you think.
I can't just wake up one morning and slip something in her drink.
It's not that easy; I'd love it if it were, but it's not.
And hence the men, the girls, the sex, the love, the cuts, the pot.
God, if I had a soul, I'd sell it only for one deal:
Satan can have my soul, my God, if I could have some wheels.

Cause my feet are getting tired and my hands are getting sore,
and I'm feeling quite just like a dirty motherfucking whore.

And she says it's gonna hurt, and something in me doesn't care,
because I think it's gonna work, because my life force isn't there.
And I guess I was wrong again, but hey - what else is fucking new?
You know, sometimes, I really wish that I would see you on the news
put in handcuffs, not looking up, keep your head down, down.
I wish that I would see the article light up this goddamn town.

And maybe I don't deserve it. And yet, maybe I do.
Maybe I secretly love it [if you think that, then fuck you].

Cause I'm not lying, and it happened, and if you dare touch me again,
oh man, I swear to God I'll kill you. Breathe, Jenn. Breathe, Jenn.

But I'm a pussy; I dislike it, but I can't change who I am.
but maybe now I'm thinking that it's time to finally be a man.

That was interesting.

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The mind may forget, but the heart always remembers.