I'd write you a novel, but you'd judge me
And you'd say I'm a failed attempt at life, right?
So I maybe won't bother I'll tear my eyes out
Shave my head like you with a kitchen knife

Well I've got feelings of my own, buried deep inside
Paintings, letters, to a home,
That I tried to use to hide, but I'm living a lie

Well I never made much of life so why start now?