I am angry I am ill and I'm as ugly as sin

my irritability keeps me alive and kicking

I know the meaning of life, it doesn't help me a bit

I know beauty and I know a good thing when I see it

This is a song from under the floorboards

this is a song from where the wall is cracked

my force of habit, I am an insect

I have to confess I'm proud as hell of that fact

I know the highest and the best

I accord them all due respect

but the brightest jewel inside of me

glows with pleasure at my own stupidity

This is a song ....

I used to make phantoms I could later chase

images of all that could be desired

then I got tired of counting all of these blessings

and then I just got tired

This is a song ...