Girls, and their Sunday papers... Lyrics

Whats he doing?

He looks like a right weirdo...

He's gonna end up killing himself

What an idiot!

1,2,3 Shots to my brain

Smoking a cigarette

With a can of propane

'Cuz I'm feeling stressed

And I'm feeling insane

I killed my therapist for trying to mess with my brain

It's either love me now

Or hate me later

Stop hiding behind your fucking Sunday Paper

Stop telling me lies

And saying "Seeya Later"

When the hole in my heart feels like a massive crater

'Cuz I'm sick of filthy feelings

And crying while I'm dreaming

I get this sinking feeling every time...

Wish I didn't have to read a thesis

To find out how you're feeling

It feels like when I talk I commit crimes

But that's what I do...

I bask in the glory of drugs and tattoos

So do you want to...

Come revel with me in the feeling?

Come revel with me in the feeling...

1, 2, 3 Shots to my brain

Smoking a cigarette

With a can of propane

'Cuz I'm feeling stressed

And I'm feeling insane

I killed my therapist for trying to mess with my brain

It's either love me now

Or hate me later

Stop hiding behind your fucking Sunday Paper

Stop telling me lies

And saying "Seeya Later"

When the hole in my heart feels like a massive crater

1, 2, 3 Shots to my brain

Smoking a cigarette

With a can of propane

'Cuz I'm feeling stressed

And I'm feeling insane

I killed my therapist for trying to mess with my brain

It's either love me now

Or hate me later

Stop hiding behind your fucking Sunday Paper

Stop telling me lies

And saying "Seeya Later"

When the hole in my heart feels like a massive crater