I've been wasting this fucking year on the idea of 
getting up and moving on, but I wait around, just 
emptying bottles in the basement of the slovak center on 
my side of town.

it's a major fucking bummer.

Because I feel nothing like my father. He's been sleeping 
all. There's nothing but the end. You're not awake (Tell 
me, tell me the things that I'll never have). So I'll 
just stay home (I'm talking to you). You're not awake 
(Tell me, tell me the things that I'll never have). 
You're fucking gone.