And I haven't had any fun this year
but that's fucking bullshit and
I haven't had any luck this year
I'm preaching to the choir. I know.
I haven't been to my parents' house in months
and it looks like March
and the years before and my attitude's the same:
familiar and worrisome.
I pictured my death two times today
the tracks and the fire escape.
Room of burnt toast and stacked dirty plates
and I'm the one responsible
I haven't had any luck this year
I know I'm preaching to the choir
but my nightmare's here and I forgot how to wake up
and start moving forward.
And my mother said, "Son, I'm sorry you're neurotic."
And my dad said, "Son, I really thought you dodged the bullet."

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