Paroles de Note To Self
All the friends you thought you had have leftAnd you blame them for such cunning, deft
And cheer. All plots end in death, my dear
Though you probably had it coming
(At least as much as anyone)
We all die alone, friends or no, friends or none
But any gun on the wall in the opening act
Must be fired by the call of the curtain. It's a fact
And just because you love someone doesn't mean they'll love you back
I hate these lonely days, I hate this deep malaise
I hate this time, these sounds, these scenes, these schemes
These reams and reams of paper seem so
Soulless and dole-less and pointless and friendless
Pitiful, damnable, horrendous
When I close my eyes, the words I see, over and over, endlessly, are:
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you
You're just a waste of time, a waste of space, an empty plot, a basket case
A tired cliché
I wish I was guileless But I'd settle for some sleep
