I've got the drinks, and I've got the will
I've got the time
And expired pills

I'll use them all
To get what I want
Wait, that's not right
I mean to deal with not getting what they want

A selfish brat, maybe
Tantrums like crazy
Pouting over nothing
Poor little baby

I'm good at self-loathing
I don't need your help
I've got plenty of sedatives;
One-way tickets to hell

It's where all my friends live
I'll fit right in
We perspire and make toasts to the worst of our sins

And laugh at the people
Who spent lives longing for choirs
Up there in white-walled mansions
Built of unfulfilled desires