It's twelve past two
And my whisky is dry
Getting sick of this mirror
Staring at this guy
Empty stools are surrounding me
I feel like I'm gonna be jumped
They all look like hell, bent up and ripped
So tough
This bar smells of **** and moan
To many whiners call this home
Your life's so bad heres my belt
Go hang yourself
Put your memory on some shelf
I'm starring down this guy in the mirror
Slamming down my drink
Light my smoke
Let it all sink
Put out your smoke!
Some ******* says
******* punk!
I'm trying to be better off dead