It took me five hours to get out of bed today.
I can't seem to get over feeling this way.
Outside, it seems like nothing is wrong,
but inside, I am longing for a change.
I can remember before it all started;
that little girl and I have since parted ways.
Thank God it only lasts four days.
Sometimes, I get to thinking
that this is what drove me to drinking—
this nightmare from which I'll never be free.
So next time, I'll take it much better,
but this time I think I'd be better off dead.
Can you shoot me in the head?
I'm sick of bleeding.
Yeah I'm sick of bleeding.
It doesn't seem the slightest bit fair,
my body has to suffer this wear and tear;
especially when it's two weeks late,
and I don't want to procreate, anyway.
Can I have a twat transfusion?
I'm afraid that I'm losing my mind.
Fuck the future of mankind!
Sometimes, I'd like to be a guy.
This time, I only want to die.
(Why are you complaining to me?)
‘Cause last time, you said I'd be okay.
This time, I'm throwing it all away.
Can you please deliver me?
I'm sick of bleeding!
Yeah I'm sick of bleeding.
I no longer want to be a chick;
my private parts are a public enemy.
Can I trade them for a dick?
I'm sick of bleeding.