Here's a little song I wrote
You might sing it note for note
And if you can't remind the words
Count on me to stick it inside your skull

Ain't got no class ain't got no style
Ain't got no cash since you've been around
Remember the point of that ditty
Don't be happy... Worry!

The gathering of your teeth on the pavement
Won't be easy with broken fingers
Cause I won't listen to your "shit-chat" anymore
On you I closed a door (how bad! How sad!)
Still I wonder what you where waiting for...

How could I have been so stupid
Yes how could I've been so blind
I'm still searching for reasons
That I will probably never find
That old fucking human nature
Is the only thing to blame
Except you and all your twisted ways
Which are all the same
All the shame

I've tried to think I was wrong
Then evidence reached my eyes
Helping me making my mind: SO I...

Leave today
I won't change my way
I won't listen to what you have to say
So now sucker you'd better worry!
Damn over to be happy!