It's my 20th birthday, but in hours it lasts 25.
I should celebrate the fact that I am here, that I'm alive.
But who wants to celebrate a birthday when it lasts an hour
spare?
I don't know. And I don't care. Oh, really, I don't care.

I sprayed the walls with my solitude.
I painted toilets with my soul.
Feel free to stare - oh really, I don't care. Not at all.

Sex is kind of OK
But love is K.O'd for a while.
Food and smoke just keep and fill me with
Despair, and brawl and shit.

I don't care. Oh, really, not at all. Oh really, not a bit.