S.A.D.

Painting over portraits again, I pretend

This isn't how I knew it would end.

Cause there are no more pages in my book

And there is too much ink in my pen

So now I'm wishing that the cycle would end, so then

I'd learn to be somebody's man

Cause there is too much history for the history books

And I'd like to start them again

I hate me, so unoriginal

No other feeling could feel so traditional

Cause every year I end up here

I end up here

So now you hate me?

Oh, how original

Well I'm used to it

Lone, individual

Another year and I'm still here

And I'm still here

Looking in the mirror, I'm sure I'm sure

And I didn't do those things from before

Cause there is no more time left on the clock

And you are walking out the front door

So now I'm learning to be wrong even more, the whore

The emptiness I try to ignore

Cause there are no more bullets in my gun

And I am trying to prepare for a war

I hate me, so unoriginal

No other feeling could feel so traditional

Cause every year I end up here

I end up here

So now you hate me?

Oh, how original

Well I'm used to it

Lone, individual

Another year and I'm still here

And I'm still here

And you say,

"I'll take it out on myself, I'll take it out on my

friends."

And you say,

"I've got this knife to my throat, and there's this

blood on my hands."

(And if you pick me up...)

Is it selfish?

Well if so fine,

I've always been selfish

And that's just one of the many problems I will never

be able to fix

I believe I am making everyone's lives around me worse

Increasingly worse

I am a disease to my friends and family

Please leave me alone

We're still young

It's over

I'm so dumb (...pick me up)

I love her

I'm sorry (if you...)

I hate me

It was fine (...pick me up)

Til lately

I hate me, so unoriginal

No other feeling could feel so traditional

Cause every year I end up here

I end up here

So now you hate me?

Oh, how original

Another year and I'm still here