Painting over portraits again, I pretend This isn't how I knew it would end. Cause there are no more pages in my book And there is too much ink in my pen
So now I'm wishing that the cycle would end, so then I'd learn to be somebody's man Cause there is too much history for the history books And I'd like to start them again
I hate me, so unoriginal No other feeling could feel so traditional Cause every year I end up here I end up here
So now you hate me? Oh, how original Well I'm used to it Lone, individual Another year and I'm still here And I'm still here
Looking in the mirror, I'm sure I'm sure And I didn't do those things from before Cause there is no more time left on the clock And you are walking out the front door
So now I'm learning to be wrong even more, the whore The emptiness I try to ignore Cause there are no more bullets in my gun And I am trying to prepare for a war
I hate me, so unoriginal No other feeling could feel so traditional Cause every year I end up here I end up here
So now you hate me? Oh, how original Well I'm used to it Lone, individual Another year and I'm still here And I'm still here
And you say, "I'll take it out on myself, I'll take it out on my friends." And you say, "I've got this knife to my throat, and there's this blood on my hands."
(And if you pick me up...) Is it selfish? Well if so fine, I've always been selfish And that's just one of the many problems I will never be able to fix I believe I am making everyone's lives around me worse Increasingly worse I am a disease to my friends and family Please leave me alone
We're still young It's over I'm so dumb (...pick me up) I love her I'm sorry (if you...) I hate me It was fine (...pick me up) Til lately
I hate me, so unoriginal No other feeling could feel so traditional Cause every year I end up here I end up here
So now you hate me? Oh, how original Another year and I'm still here