Now, this will be the last bitter song It will be my last, real bitter song about you
From now on, I’ll write about flowers and butterflies Chickens and kittens and shit From now on, I’ll try to look myself in the face From now on, I’ll try to find someone who knows I exist
so I won’t have to feel like I do when I write my bitter songs This is my last real bitter song about you
I won’t have to mention she was blonde and thin with a peanut for a brain and volleyballs for chest I won’t have to mention: that’s always what happens when you leave him your key, he ends up having sex in your apartment with miss Non-Bitterness
So this will be the last bitter song I’m feeling cheerful already I’d like to break his neck, if I may
But most, I’d like to cut off that hair and cut off that head and cut off those volleyballs
And I hope her heart gets broken And I hope she turns bitter, really really bitter like me