shirtless, sheetless and sleepless on the edge of your queen-sized bed,
last night i didn't wanna move you cause your tendons were tight,
you said i'd be the one you remember as self-obsessed,
'cause every fucking word that i tell you is really self-addressed,
sure you saw me naked but i never took my make-up off,
you don't need me, your girlfriend goes cognito no nose mustache on,
and plus my eyeballs occupy the sockets like a half-dead doll,
so maybe you could kill me off in one of your songs?
'cause i'm not thrilled about anything,
i don't place bets on anything,
i'm not thrilled about anything...anything at all...