There's nothing but jinxes.
Lots of whiners and stress.
There's nothing more than despair.
That comes to me, fair and square.

I don't see any reason in this realism
From literature for you to be so enthusiasm.
And so goes to sweetness and music.
All of these make me sick.

All people around see me as a joke.
I'm broke, broke and again, broke.
I don't see why we are bound
To keep our limits on the ground.